Babylon 5: Point of No Return
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: Part 4 of the B5 AU. As Marrain leads a civil uprising against Kalain, Sheridan is forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Fight his own people to save them from their allies, or go to the very last place he would dare dream of going. Meanwhile, an man once considered lost returns, and plans to led them in the war against the Shadows.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The truth has been forgotten. Swept away by the sands of time. Burnt with the fires that demolished anything but the acceptable truth. One thousand one hundred years ago, there was a time when the truth was known. The Shadows moved, stretching forth their hands to the Younger Races. What is accepted fact is that a coalition was raised against them, the Minbari leading the way towards victory.

What has been lost though is that most races accepted their help. The question was seductive. "What do you want?" The Abbai wanted to rule all the seas of their world, and the result was the massacre of seven million off-worlders. The Selassians wanted to expand their empire to all the worlds of the Epsilon Sector, and the result was war with the Centauri and the Narns. The Jem-Kil and thier need for a Holy One, the Boorken's desire to purge all unpure among them, and the Sensaste wanted to become a military power to rival the Gods.

Also is lost is the fact the Vorlons nearly lost the Shadow War. At one time seven hundred of the Younger Races were under the sway of the Shadows, and during the penultimate battle of San'san'do'do, a billion of the Vorlons were killed and they were nearly broken as a power. Two hundred races that had joined the Shadow Alliance were wiped out during that battle. But, they had overthrown the Gods, had they not? Had they not seen them die?

The Vorlons were forced to flee before the Shadows, and leave those who had not been touched yet by Shadows to also answer the question. "What do you want?"

When Valen arrived, to lead the Minbari and the remaining free Younger Races (the Tak'Cha, the Markab, the Ikkarans, to name just a few) against the Shadows, after the Minbari had accepted his rule, and he called the alliance together, he spoke on the Mount H'Leya, overlooking Tuzanor, Imperial Capitol on Minbar. Time changed what he said, and it is now accepted fact that he said, "The Minbari are the first to raise arms against the Shadows. Their power is stronger than most, and we will prevail as long as they, with me leading, led the charge against the Shadows."

But...that's not what he said. I know. I was there. Before the humans knew me, before my rise...and my mistakes...and my fall, I was on Minbar. There is truth that Valen started the transference of Minbari souls towards Humans and visa-versa. But, I was the very first. For as I bled on the fields of Kah'Markab, the last battle before we took the war to Za'ha'dum, I lay bleeding on the field of battle. I was dying.

But he came, and he gave me of his own blood so I might live. I wonder if he knew that one day I would betray him? I was Nukenn, of the Family Zir. I was his right hand man. But, I saw the greatness, but could not abide by it. Me and Rashok, of the Family Dosh, were there when he arrived. I was Religious, but had taken up the ways of the Warrior Caste to fight the good fight against the Shadows. Rashok was Warrior Caste, but he would first betray Valen. Not me, but by his betrayal, he made me see what I did not first see. That Valen was the end of everything that had once been Minbari and molding it into something new.

I rallied his enemies against him, and he fled. But, what he had started could not be undone. And how I wept bitterly. For I had loved him.

But, I would be reborn, into another form. Another life. Another planet. I would create a kingdom of equals. There would be no poor or rich. I would fight the good fight, hoping to raise all men by my deeds. Do you not see, Anla'Shok? I was, even in another life, influenced by him.

No, do not interrupt me when I am speaking. No? Need I teach you again young man what it means to be subordinate? What it means to be broken? I have broken far better men than you. The time has come, to tell you the truth. The Minbari were not the first to rise up against the Minbari. They were not even the second. They were the third. Valen once said, "You were Third to fight against the Shadows. Three shall henceforth be sacred to all Minbari." And so it has.

The Markabs were the first to rise up against them. It was they who said, "No!" And their punishment was swift. A plague sprang up on one of their islands. The Shadows had never used this weapon before, so they wanted to test it in a short area. The island was Drafa, a place of certain vices and immoral virtues. There was a million on that island. They were all dead within a week.

The Ikkarans were the second to resist. Their punishment was more severe in some ways. Seven times they were attacked over a decade. Each time was more fierce than the last. Then...they committed the grievous sin. They let military and science create the perfect weapon. And that weapon was successful. It wouldn't be after the end of the War that the mistake would spring forth. I know, I was sent by Valen, as my last assignment in his service, to save as many Ikkarans as I could. But the slaughter was already over. The entire population except the bio-weapons were dead, and I killed them. Every single one of them.

Maybe that was why I was chosen to be reborn as a human. I knew the need of true peace. True glory. True loyalty. For I knew what it was to betray my Lord. How fitting my second life would end in betrayal by those closest to me. I was taken by the Vorlons as I lay dying and preserved, until they needed me again. I have trained three warriors. Sech Maoran, Sech Durhan and now you. Perhaps you are the one they spoke of. The one who will lead the Rangers at the side of the One Who Will Be.

Come Marcus Cole, pick up your denn'bok. Lennon is dying. He will not live out the year. You must learn. Now, see true terror. Look, and see the fall of Kah-Markab. The illness is spreading again. They will not serve, and this time, the Shadows have perfected their means of destruction. The second of the ancient enemies will fall now.

* * *

Marcus Cole slowly rose from where he had sat crossed leg, and followed the Once and Future King as Arthur of Camelot, son of Uther Pendragon, led him to the viewing gallery.


	2. The Equality of One

**Chapter 1: The Equality of One**

There was a planet that he stood on. He did not know where it was. Nothing looked familiar. But, he felt he should know this place. Minbari stood all around him, and he turned his head towards the cliffs overlooking the valley. He could see troops up on the edges, artillery pieces set up, waiting for a signal.

His signal.

He did not give it yet. There they were. Glimmering in the heat of the planetary surface, creatures all but invisible were rushing across the landscape. Black fliers that looked much like bats swept above them. They must hold their fire.

Hold.

Hold.

Now.

Lifting his hand, he swept it down, and the first shots rang out, and massive gaps erupted in the earth, sweeping away the first ranks of the enemy. He turned to the two behind him, and felt that they were too be trusted. He extended his hand, and the Minbari fighting pole extended. The man to his right had a staff, with a sharp curved blade on each end. The one to the right had two curved-bladed swords, one in each hand.

And he turned to face the enemy, gripping the pole tighter. There would be no escape. Only death.

Jeffery Sinclair snapped back into the present. A small woman was touching his hand, looking up to his eyes concerned. He took a deep breath, his breath shaky.

"Where were you?" she asked, "Past or future?"

He shook his head. "I-," he struggled, "Am not sure. I suppose it was the future. Do Minbari carry curved swords and staves with curved blades?"

She frowned. "Not that I am aware of," she said slowly, "Maybe in the distant past, but my people no longer carry such weapons, if we once did."

He frowned and shook his head. Never did he expect he'd be back on Babylon 4 of all places. His last time he had been here had been anything but pleasant. It had...changed him beyond measure. And as he looked down at the woman before him, neither human nor Minbari, he wondered how much had been changed by his experience. He had not yet shared with Delenn about Valen. There was no need to. Right?

"Come," she said, tugging on his hand gently, "The others are waiting."

* * *

Lennier sat, legs crossed. He was deep in meditation. Never had he experienced meditations as profound as he did on this station. Still he was pledged to serve the human John Sheridan, the Starkiller. And he would never leave his side.

But... this place was unsettling. Every time he turned a corner, the visions came. The glimpses backwards and forward. Every time he meditated, that's when it especially became potent. Deeply he breathed in, and out. Muttering into his mind the words that would allow him to go deeper into his meditative state.

And that's when it happened.

He was stumbling through a cavern to the surface of a planet. In his arms he was carrying a body. Tears were streaming down his face. Nearly he fell, but he managed to keep upright. Screams were following him. Buzzing noises could be heard gaining on him. As soon as he got to the surface, he'd be able to break free.

Out of the cavern onto the surface he went. At once he couldn't breathe. But there was the shuttle. He could make it. He stumbled forward, it becoming harder and harder to breath. The soft moan from his arms caused him to look down. It was Delenn, deep and long cuts covering her body, her blood oozing out of her. He had to get them to the ship. He didn't know where the others were. But, it was...becoming...so...hard...to...see...everything...was...darkening...

He broke out of his meditations, and found he was curled up on the floor, shivering uncontrollably. These were always so real. Why were they so real? What was to be gained by these incessant dreams?

He did not want to see the future. He only wanted to be concerned about the here and now.

* * *

Michael Garibaldi and Catherine Sakai stood on the observation dome of Babylon 4. Garibaldi's mind was giving itself over to why Clark hadn't come after them yet. What was Clark waiting on? Surely he knew that there was hardly anyone on the station and they would easily be overpowered.

As he fussed over that in his mind, Catherine was staring out at Epsilon 3, just glad she could be with a man she never lost her love for. Jeff was a good man, and good men were hard to find these days. And there were so few men period anymore.

"What do you think about this place?" Sakai asked Garibaldi, as he leaned on the panel, his hard eyes staring down on the planet below.

"I don't like it," he replied with a grunt, "It's too empty for one thing. Secondly, I hate those dreams...visions...whatever you want to call them. That creature Zathras says it's what could happen, but that means an ordered purpose in this madness. Unlike my departed wife Lisa, I never held much for such thoughts. And third...well, sooner or later Clark's going to come for us. I'd hate to be sitting around here for him to come after us."

"I agree," Sakai remarked, "The only one around here to seems more or less at peace with what's going on in is Sheridan."

Garibaldi shrugged, feeling suddenly defensive. "John's an alright guy," he replied, "I've known him since last March or so and he's fine by my standards."

Sakai looked at him strangely and said, "Why do I feel unassured when you say that?" she asked jokingly, turning and leaving the dome.

Garibaldi would stand there for a while longer, looking down on the planet where a woman he'd grown quiet fond of still was. He wondered what had happened to her. He hoped she was alright. He looked up and could see that monstrosity out there. The new Omega-Advanced, the first to roll off the assembly block, ready to take humanity on a holy jihad against all their enemies. He could hear a small scream in his mind, and hoped Sheridan wouldn't be too much longer out there.


	3. Repentance

**Chapter 2: Repentance**

Charley Dexter had tried to make a good life for himself. He had tried to change his ways. But some ways were not as changeable as he had imagined. He had kneeled by the body of the dead woman, the knife being used by him to saw into her lower ribcage. He hadn't even noticed the rain that fell in sheets upon the street around him and over the body.

There was no emotion. No pain. No suffering. It was the only way for the voices in his head to stop talking. That's why he killed. It was not for the feeling of the blade scrapping on the bone. It wasn't for the warmth of the blood as it ran over his hands. No. It was much simpler than that.

It stopped the voices.

But, it had not stopped her husband and two sons from finding him. They had burst into his apartment in New Washington and had beaten him, stabbing, cutting. He had killed both of them, their blood making lovely arcs of crimson fluids. But, he was dying.

He knew it. He had killed enough people to have an idea of what it must be like. He staggered down the street, heading towards a church. He knew he had sinned. Maybe he could be forgiven before the end.

The rain poured heavily, as it always did. There was always raining on this planet. A good day was when there was only a slight drizzle. Not that there was ever an overcast sky persey, but it always did. It always had found a way to rain. Much like his addiction to murder.

He held his guts pressed into his stomach and sent a silent prayer that he could make it to the small church. Reaching the large doors, he reached up a hand and tried to open the door knob. But he was too weak, and his hands were too covered in blood to allow him to grip the knob. So, he pounded on the door, feeling his life draining from him.

The door opened, and a monk stood at the door, looking on him in fear.

"Come in!" the monk said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to a back pew, "You should not be here though, young man. Let me call an ambulance to take you away to get medical treatment."

"No," he said and clutched at the monks smock with a bloodied hand, "There is no time. And I have sins I must confess."

"Whatever the sins are," the monk said and placed a hand on his shoulder, "They can wait. Your life is in jeopardy."

Charley turned his head on the pew and could see at the head of the chapel, a statute of the Lord Jesus on the Cross, a crown of thorns on his head. He had always believed the stories of Christ. He had enjoyed the walking on water and the healing of the blind. But, he now more than ever needed the same kindness and mercy of the man who said of the adulteress, "Go and sin no more."

"It is small penance to repay for all my sins," he said, knowing his time was drawing ever nearer, "And my soul, more than my body needs to be healed."

The monk looked into the young man lying on his pew. The puffed up blackened eyes, the bruises and lacerations on his arms and legs. And he nodded once.

"Tell me your sins," he said, sitting on the back of the forward pew, "And tell me your sins."

* * *

_"We know you are up to something."_

_"I have no idea of what you are talking about."_

_"Come now. We haven't survived the circles of politics by being blind. You are up to something, and we know you have an in with him."_

_"Whether I did have something going on or not, I would need to speak to the others, if there are any, of course."_

_"Of course."_

"This is exactly what we are looking for. They are the key to help us really begin our work against the Shadows."

"I would like to trust them. I really do. It's just, you know, this is so important."

"They are going to give us what we need against the darkness. We need them."

"Why? Why can't you...you know..."

"You know my Order doesn't allow interference."

"You are interfering now. How can you claim neutrality."

"I do not claim it. But my order is shapers of deeds. Not the doers of them."

_"I won't kill him."_

_"We are not asking you to. Let us deal with him if the need arises. But we need Reefa off the throne."_

_"And Cartagia? I am sure you'll want him dead as well?"_

_"Not unless he becomes a problem."_

It had all seemed so much easier when all Vir Cotto had to do was worry about the Minbari side of things. But the Conspiracy of Light had just gained allies...powerful ones at that on Centauri Prime itself. And things needed to be changed. He could no longer focus on just one goal or problem. But he must somehow work out multiple problems.

But Vir had no need to worry about that now. As he dressed in his finery, cloth of gold and red, with black trimming, there was no need to focus on those details. Let the larger issues settle themselves. Attend to them later. Now was a time just for him.

His mother stood behind him, dressed all in black. So was his father. An older man, he was no longer as straight back as he once was, but now walked with a perpetual bending of his spine. Even his little brother, Carmon was there, looking extremely bored.

"The time has come my son," his mother said, beaming at him as she wrapped his arms around him, "You now truly shall find happiness."

"Marriage has nothing to do with happiness," his father snapped, "Once he realizes it won't get much worse, then he'll be able to get along with the woman. Which I still believe she is too good for you, Vir. She hasn't been tainted by Minbari ideals and values."

"But they have good ideas," Vir disentangled himself from his mother, feeling the stomach worms wriggling about, "Like honor, virtue and love."

"Love?" his father spat, "What does love have to do with marriage?"

"I do love her," Vir replied, and his mother beamed at him, her eyes tearing up.

"I told you he'd find love," the woman said, slapping her husband against the arm, "And you thought it wasn't possible."

The man shook his head. "That's your first mistake my boy." Then he stopped and thought about. "Well, not really."

* * *

"I never meant to kill her, Father," he shook his head, "We were in love. But she was married to another already. We fought, and...it happened. If I couldn't have her for myself, no one could. Have you loved anyone Father?"

"I loved my daughter when she was alive," the monk said, "I never did love a woman like that. I adopted her. When she died when Earth fell, I fled to the order."

"It's an overwhelming feeling," he closed his eyes, "Imagine it as a toxin so strong that it renders all reasoning and senses a mote point. But...it didn't end there. I killed. Again and again. It was glorious to behold, Father. To have someone else's life in the palm of my hands like that. I never killed a man though. Never. Not until tonight in self-defense. But, I killed nine women before Earth was destroyed."

* * *

Two long lines of men from each of the Houses were lined on either side of the velvet carpet, the middle broken and turning to make a hallway to the Holy Man's Stand. To this middle Vir and Lyndysty walked. Vir knew he was supposed to be sober. Reflecting on his freedom that was gone the ways of all the earth.

But as he saw her, wearing the low cut black and purple silk dress, a bouqet of starlaces in her hand...what could be more glorious than the sight of her walking down there, underneath the swords raised high, pulled out of their sheaths each just before the bride or groom reached them.

They reached the middle, and Vir and Lyndysty grabbed each other's left hand in the ritualistic near bond and walked once in a circle in place until they were back in the same position they had just been. Then they turned, palms pressed against each other, fingers against each other, but not laced together and they started down the aisle to where the black robed and small crowned haired Holy Man waited behind the black and white stand.

* * *

Charley closed his eyes, his breath coming in gasps. But, he had to finish his confession. He had to.

"For ten years I fought the urge to kill. There they were, like rabbits. All of them. Women here, and there. Never happy, always demanding. But, I fought what I knew was wrong. But then, right after the Battle that saved us, the voices started."

"What voices?" the Monk asked, hoping the ambulance would arrive soon. He had sent another monk to call for it.

"The voices like screams in the back of my mind," he whispered, shuddering from blood loss and the memory, "They told me, 'Kill and you shall be at peace'." I resisted, but, I couldn't forever. She was a middle-aged woman. I killed her in front of her family. And they hunted me down. And I killed them, but the wounds as you see, are deep."

* * *

"Marriage binds the Houses together," the Holy Man said, his voice booming across the gathering, "Makes us stronger. Keeps the Centauri Spirit alive. Let the sunlight of this day, be a sign of what the union of these two will do for the Republic and the Houses involved. House Cotto, will you allow House Marrago to carry your seed and let your strength infuse her own?"

"Yes," Vir said, feeling pride well up inside of him.

"House Marrago, will you allow yourself to submit to House Cotto? Will you allow House Cotto to dictate how you shall live? How you shall die? Will you allow his strength to build up your House as well?"

"Yes," Lyndysty did not hesitate.

* * *

"Is there enough forgiveness for what I've done?" Charley asked.

"It is never too late to ask the Lord for his Mercy and forgiveness," the Monk said, the sirens of the ambulance coming closer, "Are you sorry before God of what you have done?"

Charley felt the tears falling from his eyes. But were they of pain of sorrow? No man could tell.

"Yes."

* * *

"Then," the Holy Man said, tying a purple and white cord around Vir and Lyndysty's still palm pressed hands, "let this begin what shall be a strong union between your two houses. Go now, Vir and Lyndysty of House Cotto, and make the Republic stronger by your union."

* * *

"Then in the name of the Apostolic Keys, I forgive you of all your transgressions here on Earth."

Charley smiled and knew no more. The medical team stood nearby and looked down at him, and touched his shoulder. It was always a hard thing to see a man die. No matter his crimes or sin.

"We will take him from here," one of them said as they placed his body on a stretcher and placed a white cloth over him.

The monk watched them take the body away, and he watched the ambulance leave. After it had left, he shook his head and turned to the blood. Would Christ have forgiven such a man of his crimes? Of that, Brother Theo was more than sure of as he pulled the hood back over his head, and went in search of a mop to clean up the blood.


	4. The Emperor's Lost Planet

**Chapter 3: The Emperor's Lost Planet**

"This is Lord-General Marrago to Captain Carn Mollari of the _Valerius_. Do you copy?"

"Yes sir. Reading you loud and clear."

"I am approaching the Gorash defensive perimeter. Followed by thirty Narn cruisers. Suggest you prepare the defenses."

"Please copy, Lord-General. How many do you have following you?"

"Thirty."

The Narn fleet dropped out of hyperspace right on top the Centauri fleet. Five ships were destroyed by the waves of the opening vortex as the ships slid from the hyperspace dimension into normal space. The rest of the fleet was scattered, not having believed the report. But there was no denying the massive assault fleet that surged through, five ships gaining up on one of the Centauri defensive fleet.

G'Kar watched with a dark smile as the Centauri fleet fell back to the fifth planet, where they tried to rally themselves. Ten of the fleet broke off of the assault on the third planet to keep the Centauri fleet from coming back. It was this planet, the third one that held G'Kar interest.

The third planet of the Gorash system was called Mil'kor. It was the breadbasket of the Centauri Republic. Sixty percent of all food stuffs produced by the Centauri was grown here. The seventh planet was also of interest. There was where all the food was processed and shipped out. Capture it, and the war was going to be decidedly on their side. Three years of war had seen little advance. Ragesh III had fallen during the first year. It wasn't until the second year before Immolan V had been taken, captured only by the sudden appearance of an alien fleet that had destroyed the Centauri fleet and the humans abandoning their once-while allies.

But then politics had gotten in the way. And for months they sat there, the Centauri licking their wounds and preparing for the next round of combat. Oh well, it had allowed for seventeen new G'Quan heavy cruisers to roll out of the shipyards. And this attack had been months in the making.

It was merely three weeks into the human's new year. And the complete surprise had been a boon to the attack fleet. As G'Kar looked at the ruins of nearly a dozen ships, he was proud that not a single one was their own. His _G'Quan Incarnate_ hadn't even been fired upon. Indeed, most of the enemy ships hadn't even gotten a shot off.

"Began landing troops on the surface," he ordered the commanders of the transport ships that now slid out of hyperspace, "Land them in the main populace centers on the three continents. We must control them quickly. Each transport is to have a squadron of Frazi-Class Fighters to escort them down."

And he watched as the transports began heading towards the surface.

* * *

The Emperor sat on his throne, admiring the tribute that had been sent from the Selvan Protectorate. They had been allied with the Centauri for two centuries, and had always sent the most amazing silks and spices. The emissary was thickly wrapped in red wool turban and cloth that fell in strips to his beast-skin boots. His guards wore completely white armor, the breastplates thudding with the heart of the beast that was molded to their bodies.

"The Emperor thanks you for your gifts," Cartagia said, standing beside Reefa, "And he is honored that Ambassador Mil'mil'milk would deem it worth his while to come."

"You are mighty," the Selvan ambassador said, his accent making his Centauri scratchy, "We be friends with mighty. Perhaps we fight to save Centauri Republic."

"And how would you do that?" Reefa asked, his eyes not straying from the silk that by some composition seemed to wriggle and squirm.

"We offer seven Mil-mok Assault cruiser," the Ambassador bobbed his head at the use of a proper name, "We attack Narn Planet. Offer you head of Kha'Ri. Then perhaps you honor us with visit to World Home."

"While we'd be honored to visit World Home," Reefa said with a small smile, "Narn is heavily guarded. Seven cruisers will do little damage."

"Deny our offer to assist in your war?" the Ambassador asked, his voice low.

"I do not want you to lose precious lives in this war," Reefa assured him.

"But your mighty fleet around Food Planets have been driven away," the Ambassador protested, "You need help to win. Perhaps the Children of the Invisible can win war for you."

"Our fleets have not been defeated there," Reefa replied with an edge, "It is Narn propaganda."

Reefa closed his eyes and shook his head. Cartagia thanked them for their gifts again and sent them away. Why was there always these fools that thought they knew more than the Emperor himself did? He was the Emperor after all. The Fleet had not fallen. It had not been driven back. He would know about it if it happened.

"Your Majesty," Cartagia said, "Have you any further need of me?"

"No," Reefa said, standing up and opening his eyes, "No, I shall retire to my private studies. You have the rest of the day to yourself."

He walked behind his throne and headed out the back way to the secret passageways. Few knew of them, except for his most trusted guards and the Royal Family. His wife would probably be there already, ready to be taken hard. Not that he minded the burden. She was what the Earthers called eye-candy. Even after thirteen years of marriage her beauty had not diminished in the least.

He opened the door to his study and entered. And sure enough, she was there. She was wearing the red and black dress that seemed to augment her beauty all the more.

"My dear lady, Celes," he said, approaching her, "If it isn't the Empress herself."

"Come, my husband," she said, holding a cup to him, "Drink. It will make our discussion all the more lively."

He took the small cup from her and lifting it drained it in a few gulps. Laughter bubbled from him as the wine coursed through him and grabbing Celes pushed her against the wall. He reached down towards his boot and removed the small dagger and raising it to her bodice slid the blade underneath one of the straps cut it. She smiled in expectation of what would follow.

That's when it began to hit him. The burning sensation in his gut. It exploded and spread through his body. He grunted, holding his gut and collapsing to his knees. The burning coursed through his veins. The blood was turning into molten rock.

The door opened and in entered Cartagia. He looked down at Reefa, cocking his head to the side in an interested fashion.

"Help me," Reefa managed through clenched teeth, "Send for...gah...a doctor. And kill this whore."

But Cartagia smiled as he swept past him, and taking Celes, began to unbutton her dress. Reefa couldn't breathe, his lungs were on fire. But he watched as his wife gave herself freely to Cartagia. He collapsed sideways onto the ground.

"Why?" Reefa asked, as Cartagia laid down on the floor with Celes.

"You lost Gorash," Cartagia said, not turning towards him, "And when they speak of me, they will say I was a savior to our people. When they speak of you, they shall see you for what you are. A failure. I want you to know before you die though that you lost everything. And I won. I won my Empire which was rightfully mine. I won the game between us. And I won your wife's heart away from you."

As Reefa's eyes hazed over and he died, the last thing he heard was his wife's screams for more from Cartagia.


	5. Walk in the Dark Places

**Chapter 4: Walk in the Dark Places**

Marcus collapsed in the room, the dark haze overpowering all his senses. He no longer had any idea where he was or what he was doing. He had lost all sense of time. The more he tried to focus, the faster it slipped away.

Time seemed to stretch as he lay there, face first on the cold floor, the haze buzzing. Voices could be heard. The voice of a man spoke, "Come brother. Come with me. I shall show you the way out." Why did he know the voice?

_Go forward_.

He did not know if that was a thought or something someone said to him. But, he'd follow the advice. First off, the voice was that of a woman's. Also, it filled him with assurance.

His grip tightened around the metallic cylinder and he raised it slowly, planting it on the ground and pushing himself up. That's when the doubts hit him, raging against him.

You are not worthy. You failed your brother. You failed the Colony. You drank too much. You did not work hard enough. If you had been strong enough, the Shadows never would have come to Vega 7. Why did you let a Minbari board that ship? You promised to always be by her side. And then you abandoned her. You could not protect her.

He leaned forward as a man towards the rain and pushed himself along, each step taking minutes to make. Screams filled his mind, and he felt his heart flutter, beating faster and faster until he could no longer fill it beating. He nearly fell, swaying in the spot, unable to breath.

_Go forward._

He squeezed his eyes shut, even if there were no lights to see. Grinding his teeth he forced himself forward. Self loathing filled his mind and heart and threatened to stop him. He hesitated. But no, the voice had said...he forced himself to take another step.

The sight of dead and dying flew past his face, each one staring at him accusingly. But he shook his head. The dead do not speak.

_You are not worthy of my affections_. He collapsed onto the floorand right then the darkness lifted almost immediatly. He breathed in heavily, shaking like a leaf. He did not move.

"Well, well," a deep British voice said, "How long were you in there?"

"A...week," Marcus gasped, opening his eyes and looking at the metal grating on the floor before him, "At the least."

"Ten minutes," Arthur said, his chainmail covering his body, a tunic of two lions, one red the other gold on the tunic, separated by a silver cross.

Marcus shook his head, "Impossible. I've been there much longer than that."

"The Vorlons know human neural pathways better than we do," Arthur replied, folding his arms, "They long ago perfected the Terror Chamber to distort time. An amazing feat really. In that circular room, that stands fifteen hundred feet above the ground level of the city, the Vorlons have created the one thing that has broken many a man. You should be proud of yourself."

"For what?" Marcus said, pushing himself off the ground, and looking up into the face of the King.

"Only one man was ever in there shorter than that," Arthur said, "Even I did not reach the exit for three hours. Imagine that such a small room could that to a man."

"And who was that?" Marcus asked.

"Valen," Arthur said, "Now pick yourself up. The Vorlons will be most interested in this."

* * *

-Impressive. Most impressive.-

-He is only Human. He is inferior.-

-Than why did you want him to do the assignment?-

-The Rangers need a true leader. Lennon is old. He will soon die.-

The orange-green suited Vorlon looked at the pure white encounter-suit of the Vorlon Highest General Kiltor. Kosh had never understood the rest of his species unwillingness to do more than a manipulation here or there. Even now, after all these years, he was still much out of the loop in such matters.

-King Arthur thinks highly of the boy.- Kosh said.

-Does he indeed.- Kiltor snorted. -Leave it up to the Crystal Queen, Young One. She will decide what and why and when and how.-

* * *

Only four times had the Once and Future King stood in the presence of the Crystal Queen. Arthur's hand rested on _Excalibur_, that most famous of blades. There had never been a weapon of more fame in the entire existence of his world then the one at his side. The Vorlons did not like the sword, and he assumed it was because the Vorlons did not forge _Excalibur_. No, one of the other First Ones created it.

But he was here in the presence of the great ruler of the Vorlon Empire. She stood in a dress similar to Centauri Nobility, a black veil over her eyes and draped down her back. She was encased in a pillar of clear stone akin to diamond. Her arms were crossed over her bosom and a red gem on a necklace was around her neck. Beside her stood two Vorlons of the Imperial Guard, in ebony black encounter suits.

"My Lady," Arthur clenched his fist and pressed it to his chest in salute to her, "I believe that the boy, Marcus Cole, is ready to step into the role of Entil'Zha, Ranger One. He has passed through the Terror Chamber and came out in the shortest time since Valen passed through it. He is ready for the task."

-There is much more work to be done.- Kiltor said, standing beside Arthur. -The Pebbles cannot vote on this matter.-

-The silent do not speak until asked to.- The Crystal Queen replied, her voice dancing off the crystals that surrounded the room, making her voice come from all directions at once. -King Arthur, do you deem him ready? I sense much fear in him.-

"He is ready, My Lady," he replied with a proud smile.

-Readiness is a state of mind one knows not of until the dice has been rolled.- She said. -Serve Order. Serve Us.-

* * *

Lennon walked down the long hallway of the Imperial Palace in Tuzanor, heading towards the throne room. Beside him walked his most faithful Anla'Shok. Parmeial, of the Religious Caste. There sat Kalain, surrounded by the Windswords. That most vile of the Minbari clans. It had been too long since he had been away from Minbar. Maybe he could have prevented this deranged man from gaining power.

"Welcome, Lennon," Kalain said, holding his arms up and outwards, "Welcome to Throne Room of my power."

"And yet as you sit on the crystal throne," Lennon smirked, "Marrain has rallied the entire Minbari population in the old Earther System against you. I would assume you'd be more concerned about them then your throne."

Kalain threw up his head and laughed. Parmeial's eyes were drifting about, looking at the dark corners. Yes, Lennon knew they were there. Waiting for the signal. Whatever signal that was, he did not know.

"You always had a sharp tongue," Kalain said once he had gained control over his laughter, "Tell me, Entil'Zha, what would you do for the Federation to help it survive?"

"Anything," Lennon replied.

"Would you die for the Minbari people?" Kalain asked, frowning slightly.

"Of course," Lennon replied, "But you shall find that I am not so easy to kill."

Kalain stood up from his throne and stepped down the short flight to the main floor and walked towards Ranger One. As he did so, his guardians began to emerge from the shadows. Each were Ranger-like, but they were no Anla'Shok. He actually had no idea who they were. As they stepped, they seemed to shimmer, their robes changing colors with each step.

"Then swear you allegiance to me, Lennon," Kalain told him, the distance between them closing, "And bring the rest of the Anla'Shok out of hiding. Together we could end this insurrection. The Humans are ready to begin their war against us. We need this threat terminated now. Unite against them!"

"I will not kill Minbari," Lennon replied firmly, "Nor will I pledge my allegiance to you."

"Not even if it means the death of millions?" Kalain asked, now mere feet from him, "For that's the only way this insurrection will end before it makes civil war. Unless the people see that the Anla'Shok has allied with me, the legitimate ruler. One that does not sell us out to aliens and make them Minbari as well."

Lennon ever so slightly readjusted his arm position to allow freer access to his denn'bok at his side. This was about to get ugly. There was no need to be a prophet to see that.

"I would never ally myself to one who destroys the Grey Council."

"They tried to destroy the purity of our race!" Kalain retorted, his patience wearing thin.

"But our race is not pure!" Lennon snapped, "Look at the genocide of the human race! Only barbarians would do that."

"Do not think I'm a fool," Kalain said, "I am a dangerous man to decline."

"I do not think you are a fool," Lennon stated, "I know it."

"Kill them," Kalain said, and with screeches the guardains leaped all around them.

Parmeial fell almost immediatly, before he even drew his denn'bok, eviscerated both front and back. Lennon however was not so easily subdued. He had not only drawn his denn'bok, but knocked out one assailant and had rammed the end into another. But, the knife that slid down his back, shattering each vertebrae with a sickening crunch, made him collapse to the ground, death filling his vision. And Kalain stood over him, a smile spreading across his face.


	6. Houses of Secrets

**Chapter 5: Houses of Secrets**

Secrets. Dirt. Skeletons in the closet. One had merely to look upon Centauri politics and the realization of what the Centauri were would sink in. It was not entirely a proud way of life. No, it was anything but. However, if one could survive the politic games and round and round hunts to take down one another, one could find themselves on top of the political heap.

And then they could fall in one fell swoop. Londo Mollari had lived his entire life fighting against the odds. His own father had told him, "My boy, you will never make it out of the pits."

But he had. He had made it to become Prime Minister. And then it collapsed all around him. And yet, here he was again, standing in front of the newly installed Emperor Cartagia. Reefa hadn't lasted more than a year on the throne before his wife had murdered him under Cartagia's orders. That was the rumor anyways. Mollari was one to look at rumors as truth a third of the time, half-truths a third of the time, and outright lies the remaining one third of the time. But, as he looked at the young Emperor, his long brown hair standing high and proud, his gut told him this rumor wasn't exactly a stretch of the truth.

"How are you, my good friend Mollari?" Cartagia asked, sitting side-ways in the chair, allowing his right leg to be draped over the throne. This intensively obvious sign of carelessness and disrespect to the throne made him squirm.

"I am well, Your Majesty," he replied, effectively disguising his disgust as a look approving towards the glory before him.

"It seems the time away from the Court hasn't done you any favors though," Cartagia said, pointing towards Mollari's stomach.

"My wives seemed quite content to shovel food down my throat," Mollari chuckled, "I think they tried to make me explode."

Cartagia threw his head back and laughed, the sheer volume making Mollari involuntarily cringe. He sprung to his feet and walked down the steps from the throne to Mollari and tapped his chest, making his tentacles react to the pain that erupted.

"That's why I like you Mollari," he replied with a smile, "You always know how to make me laugh. That's why I am reinstituting you to the position of Prime Minister. I would have asked Malachi, but he is old. No need to pressure him."

"It would put him out considerably," Londo shrugged.

Cartagia nodded. "Yes, yes. Your first duty is to prepare our forces for a massive strike against Narn. You will work in conjecture with our allies to accomplish this."

"Allies?" Mollari frowned, "Which allies?"

"Us..." a voice said, stepping from behind the throne. His heavy robes showed he was Selvan, but his garb was different than any he had ever seen before. He wore massive robes that hung down to his feet, red scales of armor were underneath the cloth. Smoke just on this side of perception seemed to seep down to the floor, and his movements were shrouded in a shimmering haze. Only when he stood absolutely still did it seem to be that he could be seen clearly. He could not see the Selvan's eyes for the helmet on his head which looked like the skull of some beast covered his entire face.

"Prime Minister Mollari," Cartagia said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Let me introduce Main General Mo-Mok. He will work with us in this war."

"The Selvan?" Mollari asked doubtingly, "Their technology is behind us by three hundred years, comparable to the Narns. I do not see how they will be able to help."

The Selvan's face turned to Cartagia and he nodded his head. Cartagia nodded as well, as if somehow the two had spoken with their minds. Mollari frowned. Odd, he did not think Cartagia was a telepath. But, Cartagia turned to him and slapped him across the arm.

"Do not worry, Mollari," he said, "I am sure that the two of you will come to some arraignment."

As Cartagia walked to his throne, the Selvan moved over to Mollari. And it was only as the Selvan stood directly in front of him a new smell reached his nostrils. Decay and rot. It sent an icy chill down his back.

* * *

Captain Jake Thompson stepped off into the ship that was his own. He had been elected to be the first to command the _Omega Advanced Destroyer, _the _Shadow Walker_. It was twice as advanced as the Omega Destroyers, and it actually had systems that could target Minbari ships and each weapon could deliver an impact almost as heavy as a tactical nuke. And it was all his.

As soon as his boots touched the floor, a voice screamed in his mind and he looked wildly around, looking for the source of the scream. His second-in-command shivered slightly.

"You hear it as well, Captain?" the woman said, "The crew's been complaining about the screams."

"Where does it come from?" he asked, setting down the baggage on the floor.

"The ship," she shrugged, "Would you like to go to your quarters? Or do you wish to go to the bridge?"

He squinted as the ship scream again in his mind. While the inner seemed more or less Remnant Force specs, there was no denying the black sleekness to the metal, or the way it seemed to be alive. And the less said of the spider looking spikes attached to the side, the better.

"Better get to work," he said, letting her lead the way, and allowing the two guards to take his baggage, "It's early February, but Clark wants this ship to lead our efforts against the Minbari. Best get it ready."

* * *

There was never anything good on tv. After flicking through the channels and not feeling inclined to watch yet another rerun of Reebo and Zooty, Susan had decided to go out to dinner. She'd seen quite a few good places around to go eat at. She locked the door behind her and turned, and saw a man in a trench coat at the bottom of the stairs, a baseball cap on his head.

"Can I help you?" she asked, after reaching the bottom of the stairs onto the street.

"Perhaps," he said, "You are Commander Susan Ivanova?"

"Yes," she frowned, her hand reaching behind for the pepper spray can she always had on hand. Perhaps one of the most unremarkable things her father had taught her that she kept very much alive.

"I am John Sheridan," he said, "And I have a proposition for you."


	7. Oaths Taken

**Chapter 6: Oaths Taken**

It was late at night when a heavy pounding awoke Vir from sleep. He looked bleary-eyed at the door that would lead into the front room, and laid his head back to his pillow, pressing his cheek against Lyndysty's pony-tail of hair. Another pounding roused him from bed, wincing as he had to walk the distance to the den, heading to the door, bumping into the center table as he walked. He halted, turned around and heading to the door to the bedroom slid it shut.

Another knock to the door and he cursed as he headed back that way, bumping into the table again. He reached the door and opened it, and the man stepped inside. He slid a rod out of his cloak and swept it around, before letting the hood drop.

"Have you heard the news?" Malachi asked as he set the jamming device on the table.

"What news?" Vir asked, blinking as Malachi took a light glob and swept a hand over it, causing light to come forth, "What are you talking about? And what...what are you doing here? You realize what time it is?"

"This could not wait," Malachi assured him, "Mollari has been reinstituted to the position of Prime Minister."

"That's good, right?" Vir asked, "What's the problem? I thought that was a good thing."

"The bad thing is that the Selvan are being given access to our military plans," Malachi told him, "That's bad. The Selvan Protectorate has never been a military might, but they seem pretty sure of themselves. Can you get some of your contacts to look into this matter?"

Vir shrugged, "I'm not sure. My resources are not as extensive as you might think."

"Just see what you can find out," Malachi replied, "I doubt we have much time until..."

"Until what?" Vir asked, frowning in confusion.

"I don't know," Malachi said softly, "But I don't like the signs of the times."

* * *

Zack Allen looked at the article before him. He had finally found employment through the newspaper, _Universe Today_ as an editor. One of the reasons they allowed him the position is because he could stay in his apartment and not let everyone see what a hybrid human-Minbari looked like. So, despite his lack of skills with writing, he took the job. As the old saying went, 'You take what Jobs you can'.

_As the new Omega Advanced Destroyer Shadow Walker comes off the line we wonder how it will shape up if it comes to blows against the Minbari forces. Weve seen how Shadow technologe can stand up against the Minbari, but downgrading it to our level of tehnologe can't be the best thing to do. Oh yes, the military claims we now have better weapons and whatnot. But without the skills and experiance, does it mean anythin? This correspondant doubts it._

How he hated this job. Bo Bumbee was no good at his job. His opinions were farcical, and he had no talent for writing. He should have stuck to the construction with his short friend Mack Deban he kept talking about.

How he hated life. He had spent more than a decade looking like the enemy of his people. But he admired and respected the Minbari now. He could see both sides of the coin as it were. He...loved the Minbari to an extent he had never loved humanity. And he hated himself for it. He could barely look at his own reflection, with his marble skull-bone without becoming revolted and physically sick.

He had been a part of the Mars security force beforehand. He had had at that time a good life. He had been able to have many friends. Rent was murder but it had been home, and not a rundown studio apartment not fit for man nor beast. But...the worst of all...

He had her. The woman that had been a beacon in his life. That mountain of hell-on-wheels red-head with a soul of fire that could turn to the sweetest charm. He had worshipped the ground she had walked on. Those had been a wonderful two years.

But now...

He still loved her. She haunted his dreams and he found himself waking up and weeping bitterly at his misfortune. But...she was married, and unattainable.

"D-n you Minbari," he muttered bitterly to himself, "You should have let me die. Would a been a h-l of a lot easier."

He looked up at the clock and noticed that it was after nine p.m. And he was hungry. And he had nothing to eat. He would have ordered in, but with his transformation, he found fast food to be unagreeable to his being. But, he didn't want to stay around here. So, he'd go eat at the _Down and Out _on the Third Street. He'd found the staff there at least to tolerate his presence. Most restaurants had tossed him out when they'd seen him.

* * *

Lyta collapsed into the seat at the restaurant. She had just left a business transaction between three Narns and five Sh'lassens. She didn't know what had been worse. The inner hatred that always was there with the Narns or the whinny snakelike quality of the Sh'lassen mind. It was going to take a few hours to throw off the slimy feeling that she felt, and she didn't want to go home to Byron and have him feel the thoughts that plagued her.

A young man in glasses stepped up to her table, the white apron making it obvious his role here.

"My name is Daniel and I'll be your waiter this evening," he said, "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Anything with red in it," she said, "I've got a pounding headache."

"Red wine it is," he said, "And I'll allow you to look over the menu."

She nodded her thanks and he took off to grab the wine. She lifted the menu and was about to open it when she felt strong emotions hit her. Sure, there was a few young couples out and about, but there was a sudden intact of hate and mistrust that sprang in the dining room. She closed her eyes, blocking it out, but she felt another strong emotion. Self-loathing and total self-conspicuous. She looked up and when she saw what the center of attention was, she dropped her mouth.

"Zack..."

Zack took a seat and one of the waiters with a great amount of patience was sent over to serve him. Daniel was back by now and she nodded to him.

"I see you see our hybrid guest," he muttered, "If you'd like, I can move you to another part of the rest-"

"No," she said, "That's fine. As a matter of fact, if you don't mind, I'm going over to talk to him."

"Oh..." he frowned, "Have you made a choice yet on what you'd like to eat so we can cook it in the meanwhile?"

Lyta stared at Zack, who sat with bowed head and shook her head. "I can assure you I'll probably be leaving here very shortly."

Zack could feel people staring at him. He had gotten used to it. They would look away as soon as he would look, but even when they weren't staring at him, they were. He had ordered the usual and was waiting. But, he wasn't expecting someone to walk up to him. He stared determinedly at the table.

"Go away," he said when the person stopped in front of the table.

"I always did have a problem when it came to doing as you asked," a voice he hadn't heard in years spoke and he looked up.

There she was. Lyta, the brightest star in his heavens. He couldn't stop the rising passions and hurt that burned inside him in an intense blaze, and she winced as she pulled the chair out and sat down. She had always been particularly sensitive to him.

"Lyta..." he breathed, "Is it...really you?"

She nodded, "Yes Zack, it really is."

"You didn't talk to me when I first regained my memories," he said accusingly, "Why?"

She shook her head, "I had to have time to think."

"Your...partner...came and visited me," Zack said bitterly, unwilling to let the word 'husband' escape his lips, "Charming fellow."

Lyta could see the confrontation in his mind and closed her eyes. Of course her husband would want to ensure that Zack knew she was his. Like some live trophy. She didn't want Zack to think ill of Byron.

"He's a good man," she offered.

"I bet," he snorted, then looking away said softly and sorrowfully, "I once was a good man. Now I'm nothing. Not even human."

There was nothing she could say to dissuade that. Once she could have. But...not anymore.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, trying to change the topic.

"Just peachy," he said sarcastically, waving a hand, "Working for _Universe Today_. They hired me on because they wouldn't have to look at me."

"Stop that," she ordered.

"Stop what?" he asked defensively.

"Stop beating yourself down," she clarified, "You're alive. You know who you are. You have a unique perspective on the Minbari."

"But I don't have you," he said with an angry snarl of raging jealousy, "That _man_ does. I never even got to ask you to marry me. I lost that chance. Why did you chose him? Did you wait until I was gone then jumped into bed with him immediately?"

"That's unfair," she retorted, "Byron is a descent man. And where were you? I believed you to be dead. I cried myself to sleep for months. But Byron came along, and has been willing to put up with having to contend with your ghost. And he cares for me. He didn't wait forever to ask me to marry him."

"I care about you," he said in pitiful earnest, his hands reaching out towards hers.

She pulled her own hands back off the table. This had to end here, or there would never be peace. And this was more painful then she could ever have imagined. She did not see the Minbari-Human hybrid. She saw Zack, that beautiful man who had stolen her heart.

"Maybe," she said and hating every words of it, "But talk's cheap. I'm married, and it's over between us. I love Byron and he loves me. What can you say in ten minutes that would change that?"

She stared at him and watched as his spirits crumbled and he looked at her, tears filling his eyes. She stood and marched towards the door, trying to hold back her own tears until she left. She hadn't made it a block away before she broke down and cried at having to do that to her old lover.

But, it had to be done. And as she walked away, she didn't see the attack that the other patrons in the restaurant did on Zack Allen in defense of a human woman, and she didn't see him drag himself home, broken both physically, emotionally and spiritually.

He opened the door and dragged himself inside and fell on the floor. His eyes were closing from the bruises and cuts that were so many he couldn't count. He had fought them off, his Minbari training prevailing enough to allow him to escape. But, as he lay on the floor, he realized that he had lost everything.

A light turned on over the stove and he heard a man say, "Zack Allen. What do you want?"

Zack looked up, and saw that one guy...Mr. Morden he believed the name was, standing by the stove. He had been warned about that question. He could see the darkness around him, showing he was in league with the Shadows.

"I want to be left alone," he said bitterly, pushing himself onto his bed, "Go away."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Morden asked, moving closer, "Me and my associates can do many things."

"What I really want is to no longer be Minbari," he snapped, "I want to be human again. I want Lyta. I want what I've lost! Can you give me that?"

Mr. Morden smiled. "I think we can arrange that."


	8. Stepping Out of Bounds

**Chapter 7: Stepping Out of Bounds**

Sheridan stepped out into the night, his feet pounding on the cold pavement. It had been a successful night; now there were thirty that were willing to join him and his merry band on _Babylon 4_. That would make his small band thirty-six at least, including himself. Almost all of them came from the old _Agamemnon_, men willing to serve alongside their captain during this dark time.

The war-drums were beating, and very soon the Shadow tech ship, the Shadow Walker would lead out a task force of two new Nova Shadow dreadnoughts, the _Bombard_ and the _Corrupter_ against the old outer colonies of the Remnant, Orion VII, Vega 7, Arisia Three and reclaim them for humanity. Probably by the end of the week they'd ship out on their mission of blood and vengeance.

He hated Nova Moscow. The place stank considerably. No, it was a cesspool for the most part, besides the Presidential Mansion. So, it was best to be on his toes. However, it didn't totally prepare him for the almost instantaneous snatching by a man who pulled him into an alleyway, PPG pressed against his head and a strong hand clamped down over his mouth.

"Scream one sound," a voice said, the face of his attacker pressed against his face, the man's itchy whiskers and rim of his glasses pressed against him, "And I'll blow your brains out, Sheridan."

"On second thought..." he laughed, "I'll kill you anyways. Hahaha-"

A blast of PPG fire erupted and the man collapsed as his kneecap was shot out. He staggered against the wall and Sheridan turned quickly on his feet and kicked the gun out of his hand before the man could aim. He could see the man's eyes as the darted, a wild look about him.

"It's not fair!" he shouted, "It's not-"

Sheridan hit him hard across the face and the man dropped like a stone to the ground. His heart was pounding furiously, and he wiped away some sweat that had formed on his face. The sound of leather boots hitting the sidewalk could be heard and he turned towards the newcomer, fists raised.

"Don't worry, Captain," the small man said, resting the gun to his chest, "I'm a friend."

Sheridan couldn't make out what the man was wearing in the darkness of the alleyway but he nodded his thanks and lowered his fists. Either way, the man had a gun and could finish him easily at the distance he was not so discreetly keeping between them.

"Not to sound at all ungrateful but who are you?" he asked, "How did you get here?"

"You think President Clark only has one enemy?" the man said, his dark eyes seeming to shine in the night, "No. It's best we not say too much. Let me just say that I've been having my people keep an eye on you, those of us still left. We're one of the reasons your station has been left alone for the most part. And besides, when Clark gets taken down, and his murdering of President Luchenko goes public, I need someone topside that can be a rallying point."

"He murdered her?" Sheridan asked, "But I was under the impression-"

"That she committed suicide during the Night of Insanity?"

"Well...yes, I guess."

"That's the official party line," the man chuckled darkly, "But I have reliable evidence that suggest differently. Clark's an opportunist. Which is this assassin, a man whose name is Robert Carlson, a pitiful sack of flesh who lost everything to gambling debts was hired to kill you."

"And you know this how?" Sheridan asked suspiciously.

"Let's say what he was thinking was as clear as day," the little man said, and turning began to head back into the dark, "Watch your back Captain, there's a storm coming, and it'll be Human against Human."

* * *

"I told you not to interfere with Captain Sheridan," the immaculately dressed man said, standing in front of the desk, "Did I not say that?"

Clark shrugged. "You say a lot of things, Mr. Morden," he stated with a half-amused smile, "But you don't give me reasons."

"We have plans," Morden said with a raise of an eyebrow, "And your revenge and world are only a minor piece of the whole. If Sheridan is killed, it will destabilize everything we are trying to accomplish and push our plans back by years. As I said, leave Sheridan to us. Continue your search of Alfred Bester if you must, but Sheridan must be left alive."

Clark leaned back in his chair, "And what if I say no?"

Morden smiled slightely, "Then the consequences will not be so fortunate for you. Remember Clark, we gave you the power. We can just as easily remove it."


	9. Welcome to Babylon 4

**Chapter 8: Welcome to Babylon 4**

"Michael?" the woman's voice echoed from the top of the stairs, "Hurry up! We got to get going."

"What are you talking about, woman?" he replied, not looking up from his newspaper.

He heard her strangled moan of pain and he looked up. Lisa was holding her large stomach, pain across her face. His mouth dropped and he jumped up.

"Is it time?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "My water broke," she replied, using the wall to support her.

He hurried to her side and lacing his arm around her side held her up and helped her outside where they'd hopefully be able to flag down a taxi before he'd have to deliver the baby on the sidewalk. The car wasn't exactly around.

"What happened to the car?" she asked as she clenched into his shoulder with her fingers, the nails biting deep.

"You don't want to know," he replied, as the taxi pulled up with him flagging it down.

The taxi driver took one glance out of his hover taxi and groaned. "Why do I always get the women in labor?" he asked.

Michael snapped too, the new woman, Commander Susan Ivanova, looking at him with a concerned look. He blinked and looked at the plate of food he hadn't touched yet. That's right, he had just raised his fork when Ivanova had strode over to sit down with him. That's when the flash happened.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Past or future?" she asked. Ivanova had barely stepped on foot on the station when her mind had flashed back to that late night when her brother Ganya had woken up and she last saw him.

"I was back with my wife," he muttered, "she had just gone into labor and we had to flag down a taxi."

"A taxi?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, "I had rear-ended my boss, William Edgars car. He got very angry, nearly fired me."

"Edgars?" her eyes grew wide, "You worked for _the_ William Edgars who runs Edgar's Industries?"

"Yeah," he said surprised, "Why?"

She shrugged and returned to her food. Just then Sheridan stepped up to the table, holding a plate of food. He set the plate down and pulling out the chair sat in it.

"So how is our beloved Second-in-Command feeling this morning?" Garibaldi asked.

"Lousy," Sheridan grunted, dark bags under his eyes, "Couldn't get to sleep last night. I was stuck in a flash in I guess the future. I saw someone arrive on the station, had a Scottish accent, wearing robes and carrying a Minbari fighting pike. He was followed by a Vorlon."

"Wow," Garibaldi nodded, "That's wired."

"You didn't happen to get the name of the person?" Ivanova asked.

"'Cold' or some other blasted thing," he waved his fork around idly, "But...I doubt it meant anything. Susan...are you alright?"

Ivanova's eyebrows were furrowed in thought. "I wonder..." she said.

"Wonder what?" Sheridan asked.

She looked up, a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes. But she didn't say anything, and before Sheridan could press the issue, his comlink on his hand chirped. He pressed the talk button.

"Yeah?" he asked into it.

"If you have a minute," Sinclair's voice came through, "I'd like to talk to you about some of these new recruits that are coming and to make assignments."

"Alright," he sighed, "I just sat down to eat so..."

"You can bring your food, John," Sinclair interrupted, "But this does need to get done."

Sheridan closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know," he said, "On my way."

He stood up and grabbing his plate turned and ran right into Zathras who was walking in his scuttling manner. The plate's contents spilled all over Zathras who cursed and thrashed as hot eggs, pancakes and syrup landed all over him. Sheridan tossed the plate onto the table and began to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Zathras," he said, hesitating as he tried to figure out what he needed to do and how.

"Zathras do not mind," the bizarre creature said, "Zathras am honored to accept anything the One gives us. Even accidents."

"Let me help you clean up," Sheridan offered, "I could-"

"No, no, no," Zathras said, "The One called the One to a meeting. You must go. Now. Zathras is on his way to meet with Zathras. There is problems in the engines. Zathras needs Zathras help. Go. Go now. We are finished."

And he bustled his way on out. Sheridan, Ivanova, Garibaldi, and the three others in the room all turned and watched him go. All had the exact same look of bewilderment and confusion.

"Is it just me?" Catherine said as she entered the room from the door Zathras had just left, "Or does everyone else think he's nuts?"

They all nodded at the same time.

And meanwhile on a planet deep in Vorlon territory, a ship lifted from its hanger bay and took off, leaving the atmosphere and opening a hyperspace window.


	10. The Devil is in the Details

**Chapter 9: The Devil is in the Details**

Brother Theo read from the old Bible, a heirloom of his family for five generations. He had much work to do, having been hired by the a small business that wanted to have their legal documents organized and prepared in such a way that they'd be safe from water logging that was quite prevalent in the city of New Washington. Reading from the Bible was a ritual for him, making sure his thoughts were on a higher and more spiritual plane and that his work would be guided by the Holy Spirit.

A knock came from the door and not looking up he called out, "It's open."

The door turned open and he looked up as footsteps entered the room. Before him stood a man, short in height. The black uniform was dirty, and so was he. Behind him stood a tall woman of blond hair.

"Yes?" he asked, frowning.

"My name is Alfred Bester and this is my wife, Talia," he introduced himself, stepping up to him and holding out a hand, "You are Brother Theo?"

"I am," he accepted the hand, still sitting though behind his desk, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"How would you like to fight the Devil and his minions?" Bester asked, standing there.

"As in?"

"What do you know of the Shadows?" Bester inquired.

"Our new allies?" Theo mused, "I don't know. But what people have told me is that they are willing to help us. That they helped save us during the battle."

"But they let a station filled with over four thousand men and women die," Bester stated, "Not only that, but people have been disappearing. And notice they only arrive after the Night of Insanity on Epsilon 3? They are not as good or as virtuous as they claim."

"And what do you intend for me to do about it?" Theo asked, holding up his Bible, "Teach them the word of God? Even if I believed you, which I'm not sure I do, I wouldn't know what to do."

Bester pulled out a small data crystal and placed it on the desk. Theo grabbed it gently in his fingers and held it up. He walked over to his computer console and stuck the data crystal into the slot and images began to spring up. Dark and disturbing images. Images that chilled him to the very bone.

"The Devil is in the details," Bester said, standing next to him, "We cannot all fight evil with weapons. But, this is a war of information. And on this data crystal is the information to bring down powers and kingdoms."

"What do you want me to do?" Theo asked, staring at a video of a man being dragged out of his home in middle of the night by Home Guard members.

"Keep it safe for us," Bester said, "And when the time is right, we'll summon you for it."

* * *

"Well Captain," Commander Gilas said from her station, "Everything shows green. We're good to go."

Captain Thompson nodded from his seat. "Very good, Commander," he said, "What time is it?"

"1500 Hours sir," she replied, pushing aside a strand of her auburn hair to the side of her face.

He stood up and grabbing the edge of his vest coat pulled on it, straightening it. Pressing his hand to his stomach he turned and headed off the bridge.

"I have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff," he said, "You have the bridge."

"Aye sir."

* * *

He walked into the office of General Franklin, noting that he was the last of the three captains of "Shadow Squadron" as they were being dubbed by the press to arrive in the office. General Ryan was sitting to the side of Franklin's desk, his hands together and his fingers laced. Franklin pointed to the only available chair and he slide into it.

"I do believe you all know each other," Franklin said, "Captains Jon Daniels, Jacob Melson and Jake Thompson. You were chosen to command the new ships because of your records. You all have performed well, and I expect each of you to do what needs to be done in the upcoming campaign."

"Basically Gentlemen," Ryan took up the lecture, "Is that we have no idea how strong the enemy defenses are in the colonies they just took from us. Your job is to determine if we can assault the systems and if we can you will attack and capture them. You will start with Orion Seven, which is the closest. Then you will work your way to Vega 7 and then on to Arisia III."

"Excuse me sir," Captain Daniels said, "I do not mean to interrupt."

"What is it Daniels?" Ryan asked.

"Well sir," he said, "We're all the same rank that command the ships. Who will be in charge? This is a major undertaking and we don't need three opinions on what to do."

"I agree sir," Melson nodded, "We'll need one of us to command."

"None of you will command this mission," Franklin announced, tapping the edge of his table with his baton, "Command of the campaign will fall to General Samuel Thompson."

"The leader of the failed Operation: Sudden Death that lost us all perspective help from the Sh'lassen Triumvirate?" Thompson asked in disbelief.

"He is to command the campaign," Franklin reinforced, "And if any of you have a problem with it, I suggest you bury it deep inside. And respect the chain of command."

Thompson nodded. Heck, now his father was involved in this campaign? They were relying on General Samuel Thompson to lead the war effort to retake the colonies back? Then what if they were successful with this campaign? Would he lead the charge back to Earth? Minbar even? That was a scary thought by any stretch of the imagination.

"You head out tomorrow morning," Ryan said, "I expect you all to be ready by then."

The captains stood up and they all saluted the Joint Chiefs who returned the salute. Turning on their heels, they headed out of the office. Melson looked back at Captain Thompson and shook his head. A huge wave of annoyance spilled over him as he saw the look.

"What?" Thompson asked.

"We are all going to die."

* * *

Earth. Marrain had never actually set foot on the planet that had been the home world of the Humans before. Not even after they had taken the planet as a trophy by right of conquest had he come down here. No, he had been too ashamed of what had happened...and what they had learned that dreadful dark day.

But, as he sat on top of an old abandoned building and looked out at the massive statue of a green human woman with a crown and a torch held high standing in a bay of water, he wondered how they could have ever let their passions consume them so. Who was this woman that they had built such a large statue for? Had she been some champion of warfare? The torch in her hand, was it something from their gods? Had she been a heroine from their mythology?

They had learned so little of this race, despite nearly a million people now living on this planet, making the abandoned destroyed cities new and Minbari like. They had stumbled across the uses of many of the devices they had found. But there were many things they still did not understand about this world.

What were those creatures with the long tails and the pointy ears that seemed fond of rubbing against people? What were those things that lived in the trees and swung from branch to branch? What names had been given the birds that flew and made their songs? To speak nothing of those fascinating fishes and sea monsters. Some people claimed to have seen an animal with eight legs when they were beneath the surface.

This world. Earth. It deserved a better fate then what the Minbari had brought them. Did he detect a sense of irony that it was with this planet that he would rally those who would topple Kalain and his wicked tyranny?

"My Lord," Neroon's voice said from behind him, "The leaders from the clans are ready to speak with you."

He looked a few more seconds upon the green lady and nodding stood up and walked off the rooftop onto the small metal staircase that led to the street below.


	11. Voices of Passion and Reason

**Chapter 10: Voices of Passion and Reason**

She stepped onto Babylon 4 with the conviction that what she did was right, because it was right, and she said it was right. For three long years she had served as the official appointee of the late President Luchenko in Night Watch, and it was with growing alarm that she had seen in the year of the Presidency of William Clark as it was transformed into a silent police that nailed traitors into a secret police that targeted even those who spoke of disliking a current policy of the government. She'd rather be here among self-proclaimed freedom fighters then working for the wrong President.

There was two security guards that walked up to her, hands crossed infront of them. She stopped, looking at them with her air of authority.

"You are going to have to come with us ma'am," the biggest of the two brutes said.

"Why not?" she asked, arching an imperious eyebrow, "Do you not trust me?"

"It is required you undergo a test with our Chief of Security," he said, "It's routine."

"Keep out the ones that aren't here with your best interests at heart?" she stated more then asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright," she smiled as sweetly as she could, although it came out with a feline predatory menace, "We mustn't break protocol. If you will lead the way."

As she followed the two muscle men, she was glad to be here. Julie Musante was here because she was convinced in the righteousness of the cause. Not because someone told her. She knew it was right.

* * *

"Our numbers keep growing every day," Sheridan said, "But, how can we know whose here who believes and who is being sent here as a mole?"

"I agree," Sinclair tapped the pen on the table, "But how can we really tell? We have no telepaths..."

"And a strong telepath could put up blocks..." Ivanova offered.

"And we could never tell," Sinclair shook his head, "We've got nearly one hundred people on board. Clark hasn't made a move against us, but it's only a matter of time before he does. I really don't know why he hasn't made his move yet."

"My father always taught me the best way to get rid of insects is to get as many as you can together in one place then blow it up," Garibaldi said, having sat and listened to the talk and speculation.

Ivanova raised her eyebrows. "That's a very Russian attitude," she said, "Commendable."

"That's what I'd do," Sheridan agreed, "Take out as many as I can."

"If that's the case, and he's just giving us time to get as many dissidents together and destroy us at one go," Sinclair mused darkly, "Then I suggest we make a backup plan."

"Like what?" Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair was silent for a moment as his brain tried to grab for something. But nothing, not even a slim idea came to mind. At last he gave up. It was late and his mind just wasn't working at all like he wanted.

"We'll think of something," he reassured them all, "We just can't let our spirits fall."

With that, they stood up and left, each heading towards their various duties and responsibilities. Sheridan made his way down the hall and turned to head towards his quarters. And he nearly ran Delenn over.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling his heart skip a beat by seeing her, "I should have looked."

"It's fine, Sheridan," she said, looking up at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me John?" he asked.

"On Minbar it is never appropriate to use first names until we get to know somebody better," she informed him, "As I'm sure that your shadow could tell you."

"Huh?" he asked, then remembered Lennier was standing behind him, as quiet as ever, "Oh, I forgot you were there, Mr. Lennier."

"It is no problem," he assured the human.

Sheridan shrugged and turned to Delenn. "Then let us change that," he suggested, "Dinner? At my place?"

Delenn couldn't help but blush slightly. "Of course," she said, "In one of your hours?"

"That'll be fine," he said, and he watched her as she walked off, her blue skirt swishing around her legs.

A few words in Minbar slipped from Lennier's lips. Sheridan turned and looked inquisitively at him. Lennier did not share what he had said but merely smiled to himself in a knowing fashion. Sheridan began walking towards his quarters, Lennier following.

"Did you know I dreamed about her?" Sheridan asked.

"Huh?"

"As a young man," Sheridan said, "About ten years old I started having dreams about a woman who wasn't of my race. As I got older, at least once a week I'd dream about meeting this woman and we'd talk. Talk about anything. She got quite upset when I told her I was going to be joining the military. Said she didn't want me to become a member of my warrior caste since I could get hurt."

"What happened?" Lennier asked.

"During the Earth-Minbari War we would talk," he explained, "I learned then that she was Minbari, for she told me they were going to make contact with a race that had defeated the Dilgar. That could only have fitted us and shortly afterwards the war began between our two races. But, it wasn't until the day that she tried to escape from the _Agamemnon_ that I learned she was real. You know the most disturbing thing though?"

"What would that be?" Lennier asked, his voice showing that he was clearly interested in this topic of conversation.

"I actually fell in love with this woman from my dreams," he said, not sure if he was more angry or simply frustrated as he talked, "Even when I married Anna there was always a place for this woman of a race I had never even met in my heart. So...now, Anna is gone, and there is this woman that I should hate."

"I have heard of this happening only once before in my life," Lennier said, "According to our legends, when Valen met his wife to be, the Lady Karinna, he had already known her before they had met. Their souls had communicated to each other. It's usually a very good sign when this happens. You were meant to be together."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said.

"And what's that?" Lennier asked in confusion.

"How can I love a woman so quickly after Anna died?" he asked, "How can I allow myself to feel these feelings? Am I betraying her memory?"

"She is dead," Lennier said, trying to be gentle, "But I doubt her soul would want you to forever brood upon her death."

"But it's only been five months since she died," he said, feeling the sorrow stab into his heart, "Do I have the right?"

"I cannot answer that question for you," the Ranger said, "I am no expert in the matters of love. That is for you to decide."


	12. And Sail We Shall

**Chapter 11: And Sail We Shall**

"All decks report ready," Commander Gilas reported, "We are ready to get underway."

Captain Thompson stood behind his father, sitting in _his_ chair. The was enough to annoy him. He had spent most of his military career ducking out of his father's reach. And now, in an example of pure irony, his father was on _his_ ship, in _his_ chair, giving _his_ people orders.

"Very good, Commander," the General said, "Alert the rest of the fleet that we are setting off and to keep close. Set coordinates for the jumpgate, and input coordinates for Orion 7."

"You heard the General," Thompson said, turning back to his second-in-command, "Let us be underway."

And on that day, the twelfth of March, 2263, the _Shadow Squadron_ led by General Samuel Thompson onboard the ship captain by his son, Jake Thompson, set off to begin the liberating of their colonies.

* * *

"Okay," Sinclair said, looking at the list of new recruits, "We got a Mr. Zento and his wife. What's their story?"

"Served onboard the _Agamemnon_ with Sheridan," Garibaldi said, his elbow resting on the table and rubbing his index finger with his thumb.

"Which one?" he asked.

"Both," came the reply, "They both feel obligated to serve alongside their Captain. They're good."

"Recommendation?" Sinclair asked.

"Mr. Zento was Sheridan's Chief of Security on the Agamemnon," Garibaldi said, raising a hand in a might-as-well sort of way, "So, I'm thinking of placing him on my Security team. Now, as for his boss-lady, she was in charge of navigation. So, I think she'd do on the CIC."

"Good thinking," Sinclair smiled appreciatively, "We're still two short, even with her there. But, at least we got someone of experience there."

"My thoughts exactly," Garibaldi agreed.

"Now, this Jacobs fellow?" Sinclair said, "James Jacobs?"

"The man was bugged," Garibaldi informed him, "He's in a holding cell."

Sinclair's shoulder dropped and he shook his head. "How many does that make?" he asked despairingly.

"Fifteen, three of them this week," Garibaldi shrugged, "You don't want us to space them, but listen, Jeff, this place's brig wasn't built for more than maybe sixty people. What are we going to do if we reach our limit and exceed it?"

"Well think of something Michael," he bit his lip in frustration, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"If you say so," Garibaldi stared at him with that d-nable measuring look.

"And what about Miss Julie Musante?" he moved on, "I want to say I've heard of her before."

"She was a leading member of Night Watch," Garibaldi said.

"Night Watch," Sinclair said suspiciously.

"Yep," Garibaldi nodded slowly, "But she's clean as well. She seems pretty sincere, and she was personally placed there by Susanna Luchenko. Says she doesn't like what Clark's done with Night Watch."

"I can agree to that," Sinclair muttered, remembering when Night Watch in an attempt to catch him had gunned down three of his buddies that didn't want to turn him over to Clark, "What was her specialty?"

"She was more of a political advisor for them," Garibaldi informed him, "She was able to until Clark to keep Night Watch in line with political views."

"This might work to our advantage," Sinclair said with a ray of hope, "When we take back the government, we'll need to make sure that we have the people's support. Clark's pretty popular. She'll be a really good asset."

"My thoughts exactly," Michael smiled mischievously, "She asked to serve alongside Sheridan, to do exactly that. Wanted to clear it with you though."

"By all means," Sinclair said, "As long as she's not going to be dangerous."

"She won't be physically a danger," Garibaldi shrugged slewfully, "But she's a mighty fine looking woman."

Sinclair chuckled. "Got a few more..." he said, then his eyes stopped and widened, "Hoshi Morishi? Did he happen to be part of the Correctional facilities on Epsilon 3?"

"Yes," Garibaldi said in a rare moment of real surprise, "How did you know him?"

"He helped me escape Epsilon 3 by looking the other direction," he recounted, "How did he look?"

"Not good," Garibaldi replied, "He was pretty beaten up. He was half dead when he got here. Said he barely escaped Home Guard to get here."

"I want him passed," Sinclair said firmly, slapping his table in his enthusiasm, "I want him here."

"Doctor Franklin is working on him now," Garibaldi said.

"Good," Sinclair muttered, "Good."

* * *

They were dying. Not by ones, not by twos, not by tens. Not by dozens. Not even by hundreds. By the thousands they were dying. The doctors knew what was killing them, but despite their best efforts, there was no cure. People were fleeing to other colonies, killing them as well. One hundred percent contagious, one hundred percent lethal.

Lazarenn rushed to the shuttle. He knew of only one man who might and hopefully could help them. The entirety of the Markab race depended on it.


	13. Promises Kept

**Chapter 12: Promises Kept**

Takashima awoke in the morning, to find her shoulder hurt less than usual. Her Keeper made her shoulder hurt continually. It wasn't like she wasn't use to pain, but the Keeper was not an ordinary pain that could be gotten rid of. She had tried to commit suicide, but the Keeper had intervened and pushed her hand aside at the last second. She had to babble an apology to the security guards that burst into her quarters.

But, she had learned that as long as she didn't try to hurt herself, or didn't need to do anything for the Drakh that had smuggled itself onto the station, she was basically able to do anything she needed. But how she hated the Keeper.

Her screen beeped at her and turning out of the bathroom walked over the commscreen and said, "Receive incoming message."

"Commander Takashima," Doctor Kyle said, "I'm going down to the surface for shore leave. I was wondering if you would like to come with me."

_You must stay._

"I'm sorry," she apologized with a sad smile, "I'd love to, but, I really need to catch up on my reports."

"Alright," Kyle shrugged, "Would you like me to get you anything while I'm down there?"

_No._

"I'm good," she assured him.

"Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully, "I can always get you something. No problem."

"Don't worry," she chuckled, "Just go have a good time."

Kyle stared at her for a good while, and she fidgeted under his gaze. They had served together for too long. He knew her and had noticed things were a little different. But, he attributed it to the disappearance of Sinclair. He knew that Laura had some interest in her commanding officer that had gone beyond just the professional.

"Ok," he said, dropping the issue, "See you in two days."

"Alright Ben," she said, "Go have a good time."

The screen turned off and she stomped over to her couch and threw herself onto it. She pressed her face into her hands, anger welling up inside of her.

"What?" she nearly screamed, "What do you want?"

_Something is coming. Be prepared._

"What is coming?" she demanded, "What? Tell me!"

The tentacle slowly wrapped itself around her neck and squeezed, causing her to choke. She fell off the couch, grabbing the tentacle and trying to pry it off. But the more she struggled, the harder it squeezed. Her vision began to cloud and she let go, her hand falling limp. The tentacle began to ease up and withdrew, the punishment done.

* * *

"Believe me, Mr. Allen," Morden said as he led Zack Allen into the facility, "This is where everything for you will go right."

"I hope so," Zack muttered, "I can't get a good job, I can't go out and eat or do anything without running the risk of being lynched. And I can't get the girl I want. So...just how are you going to do that?"

Morden smiled with a nod. "Don't you worry about it, Mr. Allen," he said, "Just leave the details to us."

"You aren't going to kill him are you?" Zack asked, as he stepped up to the door that would lead into the operation room.

"We have no plans of killing her husband," Morden assured him.

Zack Allen took a deep breath, nodded and pushed open the door, to see several grey skinned aliens with small eyes standing in the room. These were the Zener, a species akin to the Vree and the Striebs, but unlike the Vree who loved order and the Striebs who served no master, they dabbled in the dark technologies that had been left on their world during the Great Shadow War. The Shadows had found them and yoked their strength, soon making them servants and surgeons. They were technological wizards that were used to prepare people to be implanted by the Keepers.

Zack could not have known this as he stepped forward and they led him to a bed. Once he was on the bed, they strapped him down hard and tight. Zack looked a little uncomfortable and looked over at Morden who smiled a smug smile of reassurance.

"Do not worry," Mr. Morden said, "But this will hurt a lot. The Zener haven't perfected anesthetics yet. Claim it disrupts their ability to perform."

Zack nodded slowly and watched with growing apprehension as the Zener gathered around him and began their work.

* * *

The jumpgate opened, and the Vorlon ship slipped through. The Shadows around Epsilon 3 screamed warnings to the Vorlon ship but when it didn't stop, they swooped towards it. But, before they could attack, they received new orders. And, despite not wanting it too, they turned and hurried back to Epsilon 3.

"I can't believe it," Garibaldi said as he, Sheridan, Sinclair, Delenn and Ivanova walked towards Hangerbay 13, where the Vorlon ship was docking, "Why didn't the Shadows destroy the Vorlon?"

"I don't know," Delenn admitted, "It is highly unusual. They are mortal enemies."

"I will take this as a good sign," Sinclair said.

There was a crashing and they saw both of the Zathras brothers come scurrying down the hallway, bowling over crew members. They seemed in an awful hurry.

"Be much apologizings," Zathras said, "But Zathras not as smart as Zathras is."

"Oh," the other Zathras hissed, "It be Zathras fault then? Why not Zathras fault?"

"Because Zathras not as clumsy as Zathras is," the first Zathras said, the only distinction between the two was one was a tiny bit hairier than the other. "That is why."

The two Zathras brothers reached their side and walked with them into the hanger bay. They stopped near the edge of the platform, and the side ofthe ship seemed to ripple, and out came a small tongue from the ship, not even opening up the ship. And out came two people.

One was definitely a Vorlon. With orange-green encounter-suit, it stood roughly the height of a full grown man. The robes that fell to it's side seemed barely to move as it came off. But, infront of him, stood a human. He was a little shorter than the others, but his long wavy brown hair and full mustache and short trimmed beard made him seem imposing. He also wore Ranger robes, much like Lennier, who stepped from behind the group to bow towards the Ranger.

Susan gasped in recognition. "Marcus?" she asked with a growing smile, "Is it really you?"

"I am Entil'zha, Ranger One," he said, with a confidence that was anything but what he had before, "But you can call me Marcus. Did I not tell you I'd be back? Let me introduce Kosh Naranek of the Vorlon Empire."

"Kosh," Sinclair bowed himself and stepped forward, "Welcome to _Babylon 4_."

"Entil'zha Valen," Kosh said, the helmet of the encounter-suit inclining in greeting. Delenn, Lennier and Marcus all turned and stared at Sinclair with a newfound wonder and bewilderment.

"Forgive my asking," Sinclair said, glancing in surprise at all the looks he was getting, "But, why didn't the Shadows attack you?"

"Yeah," Garibaldi said, "We thought you were a dead man."

"A bullet in a gun does not guarantee the trigger will be pulled."


	14. Dust to Dust

**Chapter 13: Dust to Dust**

"You are out of your mind," Londo Mollari said, quiet sure of it.

"Risks must be taken if mighty Centauri is to win this war," Main General Mo-Mok pointed out, his voice sounding as if he was speaking behind a fan.

"This will strip our defenses in every single system for a single strike against the Narn homeworld," Mollari waved his hand across the strategic map, the lights illuminating the back side of the maps some of the only light in the dark room. "You cannot simply expect me to go along with this. We task ships in our rear to fight them, that's one thing. But you want over eighty percent of our military to launch this attack? No, General, I will not allow this."

"Emperor Centauri might not agree with you," Mo-Mok said, "He wants war ended. Is not Emperor always right?"

"That's our tradition," the Prime Minister shrugged his shoulders, "But Lord-General Marrago would see the wisdom, or lack of it, yes. He would argue we must not do this. If we are going to do this, why not at least destroy the forces in Centauri space _before_ we go to Narn?"

Mo-Mok's head turned back and forth, it it's weird shaking way. "Prime Minister Mollari not understand or see whole picture," he said, "That's why I ask you onto my ship. Perhaps the Warleader show you."

"Show me what?" Mollari frowned, his instincts screaming at him, "What are you talking about?"

The door slide open to the war chamber, the two Centauri bodyguards collapsing, their heads rolling across the floor. In stepped a Narn, a long bladed curved sword in his hand. Blood glistened off the blade. Behind him stepped in a Narn with a pair of glasses on his face.

"What have you done?" Mollari demanded, scrambling backwards as he reached for his dagger in his coat, "Mo-Mok! What have you done?"

"Centauri mighty," Mo-Mok said, the mist that was always falling from his robes sliding across the floor and rising around Mollari, engulfing him. Mollari collapsed to the floor, trying to breath, but the mists poured into every poor, every slot, every opening in his body. Soon, all he could see was a dark cloud and Mo-Mok's voice singing songs of death and despair. He didn't feel himself go unconscious and Mo-Mok standing there still, his eyes flashing in the dark.

"Narn mightier."

* * *

There was two Minbari cruisers gliding through the space over Orion 7, their crews going about their business at a leisurely pace. The first colony transports should be arriving very soon today, and so they should be out, looking sharp with their warships ships there to greet them. The jumpgate began to activate, and the closest of the two cruisers turned towards the gate, gunports open in respect. They were a little early, but nothing they couldn't handle.

Out flew a ship they had never seen before. It looked similar to the human's Omega Class Destroyers, but it was black, with spikes coming out of the side. Much like a Shadow ship.

"This is General Samuel Thompson of Human Remnant Forces," a voice was heard coming at the two cruisers, "We are here to liberate our colony. Withdraw now or you will be destroyed. You have ten seconds to comply."

Who were these fools that thought they could just walk in here as if they owned the place? Both ships had been there when Earth had fallen. They had seen the fortress of humanity cracked. These barbarians would be easy pickings.

The first ship fired at the cruisers' front and the explosion flash across the bow. They turned to leave, but saw to thier surprise the ship still there. The second cruiser closed as well and both ships fired on the cruiser, to no effect. Suddenly, two more ships came out of the jumpgate and together they fired as one, conecntrating fire on a single Minbari cruiser. They had no chance to react, from a combination of arrogance and surprise. The ship was torn apart, the pieces scattering across this part of space.

The second cruiser charged the destroyer, firing everything they had. But little damage was done, and the cruisers swung around and flanked it on three sides. It was destroyed before it got within a thousand meters of the Human cruiser.

* * *

Vir looked at the screen at his friend Mayan. She looked dreadful, having taken it upon herself to look into the Selvan situation. She hadn't slept for the past couple days, being among those people.

"As far as I can tell," she said, and he could see she was in a back alleyway, hiding behind boxes and speaking very softly, "They no longer feel honor bound by the treaty they made with your people. They no longer want to be allied with the Centauri."

"Then why are they still allied with us?" Vir asked, "They could leave at anytime, and no one would think any less of them."

"In this part of space you do not go around without allies," Mayan replied, "Or else they'd be set upon by bigger powers. If they broke off relations with the Centauri, they'd be asking for trouble. So, they are currently trying to work out new alliances."

"Do you know ones they are?" he asked, "I realize that there are dozens...well, hundreds...okay thousands of different races they could ally with, but do you have an specifics? Even an idea?"

Mayan looked to the left, as if she had heard something. Vir watched as she looked slowly up and suddenly, with a flash she was gone, her communication device flying against a wall. It was on it's side, and Vir watched as she was lifted up and flung against the wall as if some force had done so. She fell to the ground, but was picked up again and smashed into the wall. Again, and again and again. Vir couldn't see what was attacking her, but he was sure she wasn't throwing herself into the wall.

"Mayan?" he called into the vid, "Mayan? Mayan! What's going on?"

There was a growling he could hear as her body was dropped onto the ground and the screen was picked up off the ground. A shimmering could be seen very faintly, almost to the point he wasn't sure he had seen it. It was coming to a stop and just then the screen shattered in his hands and he dropped the communications device to the ground.

"Curse you, Gideon!" he snapped as the technomage appeared into view, "Why'd you do that?"

"You should be thanking me instead of tearing me apart for saving you from a dreadful threat," Gideon said, standing with his staff in between his two hands.

"What threat?" Vir demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"The creature that killed her is called a Soof'Dar," Gideon informed him, "They are front line soldiers of the enemy. Not overly bright but they have a photographic memory. Even if it had never seen you before, it's mind could be read by the Shadows. And if it had, you wouldn't have to wait long before you'd have Kilgrain assassins shimmering into here."

"Oh..." Vir was lost for words, "I...I didn't know."

"That's the problem isn't it?" Gideon chided, "You never know or think. You are the head of the Conspiracy of Light. You need to be more attentive. If we lose you, it'll be a serious blow to our cause."

* * *

Shakiri stood in the Viewing Room of his flagship, the _Rashok Talven._ He stood over a small moon, the moon of Pilgros Six. He had been waiting and waiting for Kalain to give the go ahead, and finally he had given it. With the Anla'Shok disbanded because of their unwillingness to aid Kalain, he knew they'd been using this moon as a safe haven as they tried to flee the Kilgrain as they were sent by Kalain to kill them.

"All gunports are to begin the destruction of Pilgros Space Station," he ordered. And he watched as the purple lances of energy hit the space station, destroying it in flames and explosion that were sucked out into space. The space station was only the beginning. For an hour they punished the city for colluding the fleeing Anla'Shok. Sixty thousand Minbari and a couple hundred aliens were there. Most were dead within the hour.


	15. Messages from the Past

**Chapter 14: Messages from the Past**

"Who is Valen?" Sinclair asked, sitting in newly tended flower beds and gardens that had been built for _Babylon 4_. Some of the people that had joined them were gardeners by trade and had made themselves useful by weeding and tending to the gardens.

"He was a great leader of our people," Delenn said, sitting across the small pathway, focusing her attention mostly on Sinclair and not on his fiancé that was snuggled against him, "Just over a thousand years ago, the Shadows wrecked havoc across the Galaxy. During this war, the Vorlons were driven back and we were left more or less alone. We tried to continue the fight, but our greatest starbase, _Shinomaga_, was destroyed when the Shadows attacked it, scattering our fleet across the galaxy. Then, as if in an answer to a prayer, Valen arrived with a station that served as the new base of operations. He united the Minbari and the other races that still resisted and they drove back the Shadows, assaulting even Z'ha'dum itself.

"But, many Minbari didn't care about Valen. There were no clans, no faines he owed alligence to. He was Minbari, but not born of Minbar. He came from nowhere, and changed everything. He dissolved the old Minbari Empire and created a council of nine members, with one set above the rest. This became known as the Grey Council. Some of those closest to him betrayed him and tried to kill him. No one knows what happened to Valen, but his legacy has endured for a thousand years."

"But why did Kosh call me '_Entil'zha Valen'_?" Sinclair asked, frowning.

"During our war against Earth," Delenn said, taking a deep breath, "I was there when we attacked your home world. I walked on Earth's soil after the slaughter had ended. Do you remember what happened during the Battle of the Line, Jeffery?"

"Of course he does," Catherine said with a snort, eyeing the Minbari-human hybrid with none too keen an expression.

"Do you remember being brought on board a Minbari cruiser?" she asked, staring at Sinclair, "Do you remember being interrogated?"

"Not until two years ago," he admitted, "For a while I was held onboard this station and interrogated by a man named Boggs. He...triggered I guess the memory. But even then, only bits and pieces."

"When your mind was being probed by our most sacred relic," Delenn said, her voice quavering, "We discovered something. Our belief has always been that the souls of every generation of Minbari are born into the next generation. But, over the past thousand years, we've noticed that each generation has been less than the previous generation. We didn't know where they were going. Until we found you."

"Are you saying that humans are getting Minbari souls?" Catherine asked incredulously, at the preposterous notion.

"Jeff doesn't just have any Minbari soul," Delenn said, "He has Valen's soul."

* * *

Julie Musante sat next to Sheridan as he worked, unable to concentrate on her work. She tried to, but every time she was making any headway, she was drawn back to the man beside her. It seemed that some other will was at work. Not that he wasn't a fine person, because he was that. Not just personality-wise But also as a man. But, she was much more focused usually then what she was now.

"We still got these reports left to put away," Sheridan said, handing the last report to her. "Then we'll be done for the evening."

"Very well, Captain," she said, grabbing the paper and sliding it into the pile nearby.

He rolled his head around his shoulders, and Miss Musante could hear the bones popping in his neck. He seemed really tense and he grimaced as he reached up and tried to rub his aching muscles. Next thing she knew, she was standing up and walking around the desk.

"Let me get that for you," she said, walking behind him and beginning to work out the kinks in his shoulders.

""You don't have too..." he said, then stopped, "Wow. You really are good at this. Are you trained to give massages? Like a chiropractor or something?"

"Oh no," she said, "I've always had talent for this."

_No I don't. What I am saying? I can't even pop my own neck in the mornings. What's going on?"_

Sheridan lurched forward and stood up, backing away from her.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he pressed his fingers to above his eyebrow, "But I can't let you do this. It's just...I don't feel comfortable with it."

"Would you be comfortable with dinner?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Miss Musante-"

"Julie," she smiled, all the while total beside herself in confusion at what she was doing.

"_Miss_ Musante," he reinforced what he was saying, "I already have an interest in someone."

"That's alright," she said, seductively walking up to the door and locking it, "We don't have to tell."

Sheridan was lucky that the drop to the floor outside the window wasn't too large a fall. Otherwise he'd have broken something as he jumped out and ran right into Delenn.

"Sorry," he said, "I need you to come with me."

And grabbing her by the arm dragged her away, fleeing the office he had just escaped from.

* * *

"You really have changed," Susan said, sitting in her comfy chair, looking at Marcus as he sat leaned back with his new suaveness, "I must say, I like it."

"Really?" he smiled, "So have you. For the better."

"No, I haven't," she protested.

"Oh yes," he said.

"How?" she asked.

"You seem happy," he noted, "You never were such back at the Colony."

She was about to protest. But she started to think about it.

"You know..." she said with a half-smile, "I am happy. Sure, I'm a renegade on a station that who knows how long until Clark decides to push on us, but, I really am happy."

Marcus smiled, his white teeth seeming to dazzle across the room. "I'm glad."

They sat in a comfortable silence. The years of friendship had come full circle. Both were not only happy to see each other. They were thrilled at seeing how the year apart had changed the two of them. Susan, happier and more alive than she had been as military governor on Vega 7. Marcus, now confident and walked about with purpose.

"I've always wondered something," Susan finally broke the silence.

"What's that?" he asked, arms folded.

"I wish you to be honest with me," she said, mock glaring at him.

"Always," he nodded.

"I got to the colony maybe four years ago," she said, "Right out of training. I'm not there for two days before I see you standing at the door, walking around like my bodyguard. You did that for every day for three years. But then, we land on that asteroid with those technomages, and you leave me. Why?"

"A price had to be paid," he said, not even a hint of trouble emotionally passing before his eyes.

"What price?" she asked.

"They would not save your life if I didn't agree to go with Kosh," Marcus replied, "You had been in a coma for weeks. I knew you wouldn't live without their help. So, I did what any desperate man would do."

"So where did you go?" Susan asked, "Somewhere in Vorlon space?"

"I actually went to the Vorlon Homeworld," he said, and holding up a finger, "Can't tell you though."

"Come on, Marcus," she shot back, "Why not?"

"Even if I wasn't honor bound not to say anything," he said, "I couldn't describe it to you."

"Well," she threw around, "What was it like then? I'm meaning how did you feel?"

"Have you ever been to the old castles on Earth?" Marcus asked, "Or visited the pyramids?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"How did that feel?" he inquired.

"Wow," she said, taken aback by the question, "I guess I couldn't grasp my mind around how people lived and managed in such a primitive society."

"That's how I feel now," Marcus said, a sense of oldness coming from him, "Here, we have marvels that a king of antiquity would give up his kingdom for. And yet, these are but marbles of stone and glass as compared to what I've seen there."

Susan frowned as she looked at him. A shadow seemed to pass over him, as if years passed by him instantly. But, he shrugged, and it all was gone.

"What were you doing then?" she asked, "What did you mean by 'Ranger One'?"

"I am here to take command of the Rangers, or by their proper title, the Anla'Shok."

"Never heard of them," she shook her head, "But finally, last question."

"Miracles never cease," Marcus teased.

"Why did you follow me around?" she asked.

He looked sadly at her and said, "One day I can answer that. But not today."


	16. New Allies, Old Problems

**Chapter 15: New Allies, Old Problems**

"This is really not a good time, Com-," Sheridan said, but as he turned his eyes grew wide.

-Come- Kosh said, standing in the doorway.

"Uh...Kosh," Sheridan blinked, "What are you doing here?"

-Fetching.-

"Who?"

-You. Come, now.-

Sheridan debated staying behind, but his curiosity won out eventually. For two weeks Kosh had been on _Babylon 4_, but never had he spoken to any besides Sinclair. So, he followed him out into the hallway, where he was met by Delenn. His heart did a skip when he saw her standing there, wearing a new dress of blue and red robes. He had no idea if this was love he was feeling or she was the rebound from the death of his wife, but he pushed that aside as she fell in beside him and followed him.

"You have any idea what this is about?" he asked her.

"None," she shrugged, "I was doing my hair and he showed up."

"Whatever it is," Lennier spoke behind them, Sheridan so used to his sudden speaking that he had gotten use to it, "This is a Vorlon. It must be important.

They followed Kosh into the transport tube and the door closed. They could feel the lift as it descended four decks. The transport tube stopped and opened and Sheridan frowned. _The Hangerbays?_

Kosh at once proceeded out of the tube and headed down towards bay 3, where most of the stations shuttles were kept. They followed him and Kosh walked up the ramp into the back of the shuttle. They followed him in, and Kosh stood to the side.

-Fly.- he said, looking at Sheridan.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

-Near.-

Sheridan looked at Delenn who looked just as confused as he felt. So, he settled into the pilots seat and turned on the power, waiting for everyone to buckle up. He looked back and saw Kosh wasn't buckling in. Not that he probably needed to.

"Shuttle...4 to Babylon Control," he said, flipping on the comm-channel, "Requesting permission to depart."

"Captain?" a woman's voice came through, "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry Miss Conne-Mrs. Zento," Sheridan caught and corrected himself, "Just going for a spin."

There was a short pause as Naomi thought this through. Sheridan hoped she wouldn't press the issue, he was in no mood to have to debate with her. But, finally, she gave in.

"Alright," she said, "I guess they've been keeping clear of here. Just don't go too far."

"Yes mom," Sheridan joked and they flew out of the station.

-Fly down.- Kosh ordered.

Sheridan shrugged his shoulders. He mouthed 'alright' and began to descend down from the ship. As the shuttle flew in a nose dive down, he turned to Kosh.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

-To where the difference is the same.- Kosh replied simply.

This was going to be a long ride.

* * *

"We shouldn't move too hastily," Katz, current leader of the worker clan Shindilgo said, shaking her head, "Even if you were right Marrain, and he is working against our best interests, he's still our leader."

"You know Shakiri could have attacked Pilgros without orders from Kalain," Marrain explained, his patience with the nine fools at hand being taxed, "Now is not a time for half-measures. We must act against Kalain, and now."

"I agree," Mazetch of the Warrior Caste said, "He went too far by firing on the station. He's banished the Anla'Shok, and then hunted them down. Any clan that will not follow him is immediately banished to the polar regions of any planet with no provisions. My own Fire Walker Clan was one of them. We must act to defend ourselves."

"But you would propose we use violence and shed Minbari blood," Dhaliri of the Third Fane of Gildormo shook her head, "We cannot allow the stain that's befallen Kalain stain our souls as well. Valen said-"

"Valen said 'A Minbari unwilling to fight for what's his right is not worthy of being called Minbari'," Shakat of the Warrior Caste's Torchflame Clan interrupted her, "He also said, 'There are times when the distasteful must be done for what is right'."

"We must vote on this issue," Marrain said, holding up his hand to forstall any further argument, "I could order you to, I am still Grey Council, even if it no longer exists. But, what shall we do? Shall we allow the usurper to continue his tyrannical reign? I vote for no. We shall fight. But, there is nine clan leaders here. You must vote on it. We shall move upon the decision of the vote."

And the vote was cast. Three did not want to go to war. One religious and two workers. But, the rest were in favor of armed rebellion. Marrain looked at the votes and smiled grimly.

"Then, we shall need an army," he said, "We shall summon every Anla'Shok to rally with us at Earth. I am sending my Alyt, Neroon to go to Zha'Valen'Venni to take control of the Anla'Shok there. I also want Dhaliri, Durlan and Katz to go met with humans. See if they will be willing to let us end this war. Perhaps, we can avert the coming apocalypse that follows on the heels of their warriors."

* * *

The first sign of something being odd was the sudden resistance that they were met with. Sheridan had all but fallen asleep but the jolt awoke him. The shuttle shook violently as they hit what he could only describe as spacial turbulence.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, "Hold on! What's going on Kosh?"

-Fly.-

"Oh great!" he muttered, clenching the controls, the autopilot shutting off.

A white light washed over the ship, but it did not blind them. Sheridan looked over at Delenn and she at him. Both were surprised and couldn't figure out what was happening to them. And then, the light was gone, and before them was..._Babylon 4_?

But, the painting was different, instead of being Earth Force green as the other _Babylon 4_, this one was painted light blue. There was a good deal more weaponry on it they could see, and it had a look of infinite antiquity to it. Around it flew a three craft flight of ships that seemed like purple plucked chickens.

"In Valen's name!" Lennier gasped, "I have always dreamed of coming here!"

"In all my days," Delenn breathed, "I had never dreamed of stepping foot here."

"What is it?" Sheridan asked staring at the symbols that were painted on the side in black paint, "Delenn?"

"This is where Valen walked over a thousand years ago," Lennier said in wonder, "Where the most elite and worthy of the Anla'Shok train. Where Valen won the Shadow War."

"Zha'Valen'Venni," Delenn whispered, "Valen's Great House."

A Minbari voice spoke to them, and Delenn replied. Soon, they were flying into a hangerbay, beside dozens of the same type of ships that flew outside. Kosh lead them out of the shuttle and directed them, past work crews of Minbari and another race Sheridan had never seen before. This race had long faces, and seemed insectoid in nature.

"The Tak'cha," Delenn named them in wonder, "Valen cast them out. Why are they here?"

-All our children are needed.- Kosh replied in his cryptic way.

They followed him down the hallways, passing by many more workers. Kosh led them to a wide door, and the door opened. And he lead them into the room. It was a large chamber, nothing that they'd ever seen before. _Babylon 4_ certainly had nothing like this chamber.

It was maybe three hundred feet wide and three hundred across. A long golden carpet ran down the center. And to either side were Anla'Shok. The whole room was filled with hundreds of the Rangers. In brown robes and denn'boks extended, they formed a living corridor that ran down the sides of the carpet. Sheridan and the others looked around in awake as they walked, passing by statues of Minbari raised proudly on either side.

Lennon in a statue three times his size knelt on one knee and looked across the room, fighting pike extended and the tip planted on the ground. Murtag standing, with right hand raised towards the roof. Serpha, one her knees, holding the two halves of a broken fight pole in both hands, preparing to ward of invisible foes. Turlan, scroll extended in front of him, eyebrows arched. Zawlen, holding a curved bladed weapon behind him, looking down, his foot planted on the chest of a fallen enemy who held his hands up to ward off the coming blow. Many more there were, breaking up the ranks of Anla'Shok.

But, Kosh led them down the corridor and towards the other end. There stood Marcus, and he nodded to them with a clam and stone-like expression, dressed in a robe similar to the Anla'Shok, but of a greater regality, for he stood not as a ranger, but as Entil'zha. By him stood a hologram of a Minbari, a small beard on his chin. Delenn brightened to see Draal. And to the other side was a Centuri male, looking around in an intimidated manner. Behind them stood a statue of Valen, his arms wide open, as he had when Rashok and Nukenn first stepped onto the station and first beheld him.

"Welcome Captain Sheridan," Marcus Cole said, "To Zha'Valen'Venni. To my right is Draal, the wise Minbari who controls the Great Machine on Epsilon 3. And to my left is Vir Cotto, the leader of the Conspiracy of Light, who even now fights to control the darkness that grips Minbari and Centauri space. And I present to you the Anla'Shok."

"Why are you showing me this?" Sheridan asked.

"You will lead us in this war," Marcus said, "And I wanted you to know what allies you had."


	17. The Dagger of the Mind

**Chapter 16: The Dagger of the Mind**

Where was he? Why was his mind not working? His legs...his arms...nothing was moving. He couldn't feel any of it. He struggled against the heaviness of his eyes, and slowly they opened and what he saw made him wish he could close them again and for this to be a bad dream.

Two Narn sat next to him. One was talking, and doing a lot of that. Mollari couldn't make out what he was saying with his mind not processing everything. But, he was not worried about him. The other one...he was a silent creature. He remembered a saying of the Third Emperor when a terrorist organization grabbed hold of a nuclear warhead and they made no demands. "That means they _are_ going to use it." Silence was not ever a good thing. And the Narn was staring at him, his eyes dark.

"Ah," the talkative one said, turning to him. "You are awake. Good, good. I would have perfered using some drugs to put you to sleep, but the Selvan are something of sentimentalists. They felt it would besmirch their honor if they didn't do anything to help us capture you."

"Who-" Mollari tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form in his mind.

"I am Tu'Pari," the Narn bowed slightly, "Of the Thenta Makur."

The Narn assassins guild. Mollari took heart when he heart that; strangely enough. He'd survived more than one assassination attempt, and knew that he'd outlive this. Interesting that.

"Forgive Ta'Lon," Tu'Pari said with a wave of his hand, "He's not much in a mood to talk."

"Why haven't you-" Mollari struggled.

"Killed you?" Tu'Pari offered, "Because my employer needs something else from you. He does not want you to die. I'm here to make sure you don't go anywhere. And Ta'Lon, he's here to watch you suffer."

"Whose your employer?" the Prime Minister asked, feeling oddly thrilled that he was getting abler by the second to actually communicate with his captors.

"Why me, of course," a voice said and out from behind a corner stepped out G'Kar. Even though they had only met in person once, Mollari knew him on sight. G'kar stepped forward slowly.

"Londo of House Mollari," G'Kar said, the words dripping in satisfaction, "Prime Minister of the Centauri Republic. Confidant of both Turhan and Cartagia. Mediator between the Minbari Federation and Human Remnant. Survivor of seventeen assassination plots. Husband to three wives, but not any pouchlings from any of the unions. Not even to the first wife your family made you divorce."

"You seem to know a great deal about me," Mollari said, trying to move any of his various limbs but none would move.

"After our last encounter I took it upon myself to study you in depth," G'Kar said, now standing in front of the Centauri, towering over him, "And I must say, I am impressed. You rose from a modest nobility to hold one of the greatest positions of power in the galaxy. I am rather fond of you, one could say."

"You have a funny way of showing, yes," Mollari snorted.

"I am sorry to have to be so inhospitable," G'Kar shrugged, sitting on a chair that Mollari hadn't noticed was before him, "I usually do not treat my guests so. But, you are a special case."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. You see, the Selvan wants your lands for thier own, to become a power rivalling anything in the galaxy. But, one man stands in the way. And that is you. You hold sway over the Centauri Republic. Lord-Admiral Dromo and Lord-General Marrago, while able soldiers, are just that. Soldiers. And we soldiers do as ordered. They will strip away their forces from Centauri space and move against us. Yes, there will be bloody carnage over Narn. But Centauri Prime! The streets will be drowned in an ocean of Centauri blood and I shall sit upon the Centauri Throne. As was promised by the Kha'Ri."

Mollari had heard these kinds of speeches before from his own countrymen. Vain and ambitious lords and nobles who only cared for their own glory. But G'Kar was something new even for him. There was no vain boasting. He was utterly assured of victory. His confidence had rarely been rivaled. A man of such confidence was a power indeed, even if he claimed no such thing.

"You speak big," Mollari applauded him vocally, "But the planetary defense grid will destroy your entire fleet before it has a chance to do anything."

"That's where we run into the problem," G'Kar said with a chuckle, "After torturing your soldiers, it's quiet clear only one man has the codes to deactivate the defense grid. Not even the Emperor himself has the codes. But, one man does. And he is sitting in front of me."

Mollari laughed. His laughter had been described by those who knew him as from the soles of his feet all the way up. And now he laughed. And G'Kar was frowning at that.

"I don't see how this is funny," the Narn WarMaster replied.

"Did you really think I'd tell you anything?" Mollari kept laughing, "You know, you are quiet mad. I think I'll need a change of underwear. I have spent my life building my defenses to torture. You will not break me."

G'Kar reached inside his tunic and pulled out a small plastic bag, with a white powder inside. Mollari's laugh died when he saw it. He had seen humans use this before. How did he get his hands on it? He didn't even realize the stuff was being made still.

"I thought you'd recognize this," G'Kar said without a smile, deadly serious, "Back during the war, I discovered humans were running around in Narn costumes to terrorize innocents in Geneva. I followed them and during the ensuing fight, I took much of what they had. Guns, special looking knives, credits. Including a small bag of Dust. I know it activates latent telepath genes in humans, and I've always wondered if there was enough of the genes in Narns to use it. Now here is the chance I've needed to test it."

Mollari looked in horror as G'Kar ripped open the bag and as the drug required, poured it into his mouth, chewed on the powder and gulped it down.

* * *

Mr. Welles stood outside his office, locking the door for the evening. As he looked up, he saw Mr. Morden walking around the corner, coming up towards him. Probably wanted to talk.

Welles was many things. He was a politician. He was a survivor. He knew right and wrong. He did what was necessary. But he was one thing above all. He was not blind and what he saw made him suspicious of Morden and his associates.

"Good evening, Mr. Welles," Morden said, stopping next to him, "I was wondering if we could meet sometime to discuss setting up Shadow embassies on Remnant Colonies as their reclaimed."

"Why?" Welles asked.

Morden looked at him as a man who doesn't understand the question. "Because," he said in a matter-of-fact way, "As you continue to spread, you'll need to keep in touch with the rest of the Shadows, and these embassies will ensure instantaneous communications."

"Come back tomorrow," Welles said bruskly, "I'm off to home and the wife."

Morden cocked his head to the side. "You don't like me," he mused.

"No," Welles replied, "I've survived by listening to my gut. And if it wasn't for the fact that you and the President are such good chums, I'd order you packing."

Morden smiled in his smug manner. "That's a dangerous game you play," he said.

"Politics is a dangerous game to play," Welles agreed, "One that needs someone who knows how to play all sides."

"So which side are you playing now?" Morden asked. Welles smiled his own smug smile and turning walked off, leaving Morden alone.

* * *

"There is so much here. So many memories. So many details. Well, well, Prime Minister. You really do love Timov. Not so much your other wives, I can see that. But her honesty enraptures you."

"Stay out of my mind!" Mollari shouted, turning and running for one of the many doors. One of these had to lead out of his mind. He opened one of the doors and he saw a memory of him as a child being chased up a tree by a family garbildo. Stupid animal reminded him of a dumber animal then a human dog.

"You were always frightened of that creature," G'Kar tisked, "No wonder you killed it when your father was away. But, gasp, you lied to him afterwards? How low even for you."

"These are my memories!' he shouted, opening one door after another, each a different memory, "Get out."

"How many times did we beg, ask, demand that you leave Narn, and you slaughtered us by the hundreds?" growled G'Kar, sitting on top of each doorframe he ran to, "By the thousands? By the millions?"

"I had nothing to do with that!" Mollari shouted, stumbling as he tried to find an exit.

"Of course you didn't!" G"kar shouted, growing larger than life and kicking Londo Mollari to the ground with a foot as large as Londo was tall, "But are we not all creatures of our races makings? You are as guilty for the crimes as your ancestors were! Even more so because you accept them as your own!"

Mollari looked up from where he sprawled on the ground. "This is a violation of the highest degree!" he snapped.

"This is nothing compared to the extermination of the village Grim'baldi," G'Kar snarled, "Or the mass hangings of the five thousand on the road between G'Quan and Tilborth City! Or the rape of the seventy virgins of the Temple of G'Min. Surrender your secrets! All of the them!"


	18. The Failings of Science

**Chapter 17: The Failings of Science**

"My people are dying," Lazerann had said to him, "I need your help Stephan. You can save us."

His friends on Babylon 4 had advised against it. They had argued with him. Heated words were passed. None of them willing to budge; doctor or friends.

"There's not any telling if you could get sick too!"

"I know that."

"You can't just throw away your life on a whim."

"I'm a doctor. If I don't do anything, I'll be just as guilty for being complacent."

"You aren't God, you know."

"People come to me because their prayers aren't enough. They want me to intervene when God was too busy to answer their prayers. I claim the authority if I am charged with the responsibility."

"What can one man do against such terrible sickness?"

"What can one man do? One man can be the difference between a cure, and death."

"You don't have to go. You can do it here. Run your tests here..."

"It's not enough. I have to be there. I know you don't understand that, but I have to. There are many things I can't do by hearsay. I have to have the hands on."

"And if you die?"

"Then so be it."

Sinclair had riled against him. Susan had begged. Sheridan had argued. Heck, even Doctor Hobbs had debated it with him. But not Markus. They'd become fast friends and when he told the Ranger his plan, he had simply nodded. A terrible sadness and understanding was in his eyes.

"There is a training method on the Vorlon Homeworld that was adapted to Minbari technology. It's called a Terror Chamber. It is the final test of any Ranger and one cannot go on to become one of the Anla'Shok without going through it. There, we are confronted by our deepest and darkest fears. Terror; true terror is when what we fear the most assault us, Stephan. When we are stripped of the one thing we hold most precious. I have counted you as a friend, and I must be brutally honest. Despite your ordeal at the hands of the Minbari, despite all you've seen, nothing has prepared you for this."

"I can handle it."

"You will be changed. You will be stronger. You will also be filled with a deeper horror then you've ever met. Walk with Valen, Stephan Franklin."

As he sat there, holding the hand of dying Lazerann, he looked around. They were dead. All of them. Everywhere he looked, the bodies of the dead were there. Eyes opened, the once exhilarating joy that came from them quieted forever. For two weeks he had been here, and had watched as mass panic had swept the planet. Lazerann and he had worked nonstop, trying to find a cure. But, even now, as the last of the Markab he had any knowledge of was dying, he was faced with it.

He thought the Markab were everything. He loved the people more than he had loved humanity. He had lived among them, and they had opened his eyes. And now, it was all slipping away. So very fast, and he couldn't stop it.

"Let us not..." Lazerann breathed harshly, "Dwell on sorrow, Stephan. I remember the first time I met you. You were young, enthusiastic, full of wild ideas. I was simply baffled by this brazen young man that had the impunity to mess with my stuff!"

Stephan chuckled, tears forming in his eyes. "You were too tidy," he said, fighting to calm his troubled spirit.

"Ha!" Lazerann laughed back, "You were worse then than I ever was. I am sorry I never saw you married. Have children. You would have been a good father, Stephan."

"Maybe," Stephan shook his head.

Lazerann spasmed and clenched Franklin's hand so tight his fingers were turning purple. Franklin was losing him. He could see and feel the life leaving him. The attack passed, but time was up.

"Stephan," Lazerann gasped, his breathing becoming more rapid, "You have always listened to me. Do so now! Live each moment to its fullest. Do what is right, because it is right. Be...happy. Be content."

"How can I?" Franklin asked.

"Focus...on...who and what...you...are," Lazerann's voice began to fade, "And not on what you're...not..."

And Lazerann died, his dead fingers still clenched around Stephan's hands. Lazerann was not the last Markab to die. Thousands more on Markab colonies would die, and the disease would spread to the pak'ma'ra. But, while it would do no more than kill a few thousand of the carrion eaters, the Markab race would die.

But, as Stephan sat there, he shed tears. A drop for every one of those who had died, and he knew at last what had been taken from him. The one thing he prized about all else. His pride.


	19. Falling From Grace

**Chapter 18: Falling From Grace**

The procedure had been painful. He had drawn blood as he clenched his fist and the finger nails dug deep furrows into his skin. The Zener had worked with a slow methodical approach, and he had screamed to a God he no longer was certain he believed in. The worst of all was the fact that he simply couldn't pass out. His human-Minbari DNA had overridden the physical safety-measures designed by both races to shut down the conscious mind. So he had endured every pain staking moment of the surgery.

But when he had sufficiently gained enough strength to, he had reach up slowly, daring to hope against hope. And he had felt it. Hair. And he did not feel it. The marble bone. He had struggled up, and Morden had helped him over to the mirror, and he had looked at a face he had not seen in years. And he wept fierce tears of joy unashamedly.

And he never noticed Morden's smile growing, and his eyebrows furrowing in a maniacal way.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and Zack opened it wide to see Morden standing there, his hand in his pocket as always. Zack smiled wide.

"Come in!" he said, waving him in, "Come in. What brings you around these parts?"

"A couple of things," he said, taking in the new apartment. It had been roughly a month since the procedure had ended, and Allen had really shot up in the world. He'd gotten a raise of a hundred Remnant credits, and he'd put that towards a studio that was a big larger than the last one. "But first and foremost I wanted to make sure everything was fine."

"Yeah," Allen laughed, "Although the lack of the bone and the hair makes me really itchy. You know that Minbari don't have hair on their chests or armpits? Imagine the agony I'm in! hair all over the place."

"Nothing we can do about that," Morden chuckled in that way people who don't really think something is funny do, "Some compromises had to be made."

"I know," Allen shrugged, "But hey...can I get you a drink or something?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Morden replied, "Besides, I'm here to let you know that we are preparing to complete the rest of your requests."

"Lyta?" Allen asked with a twinkling in his eye, "I'm ready."

"Yes," Morden said, looking around, "I believe you are. May I be blunt?"

"Yeah," Allen shrugged, sitting back on the back of the small couch.

"You were in no position to care for anyone a month ago, including yourself," Morden explained, "Is that really the life you'd have wanted to introduce this woman too? Heck, you were half-beaten to death because of your...condition. Did you really want Lyta to come into that?"

Allen bit his lower lip. The truth as they said, is a b-h. He never would have allowed himself to let her into that existence. He hadn't been able to help himself. But now, his life was in order.

"No," he admitted out loud, "Probably why you've waited so long to start off with part two."

"Hole in one," Morden smiled, "This next part is going to be tricky. You should very well see the results soon enough."

"I see," Allen nodded and looked down at the ground. When he looked back up, Morden had vanished, the door not open.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the best time?" the man asked, sitting across the table in the corner from another man, "Clark's been combing the city looking for you and your cell. This'll give him a visible target."

"I know what I am doing," the other man said, an arm on the back of the chair and one leg crossed over the other, "Clark's all but got us surrounded. If I don't release the evidence now, I'll be caught. My sources in the military says that there is enough support that if this went public, the military could be split in two."

"That's dangerous," the taller man said, running a finger over the wooden table top, "We are currently at war with the Minbari, and the Centauri could come gunning for us. Is dividing our forces a good idea?"

"You have a better idea?" he shot back, "No, Byron. It has to be now. And besides, you have been following the progress of the war, haven't you? Only Arisia III hasn't been reclaimed. Soon, our forces will expand beyond that into the old Earth Alliance home territory."

Byron raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea you were so well informed about the military's progress."

"As I said," the small man replied, with a flick of his hand, "I have sources everywhere. Even on _Babylon 4_."

"Any idea why Clark hasn't gone after Sheridan and his lot yet?" Byron inquired, not sure whether he'd like the answer or not.

"Clark's not calling the shots," the other man said, "The Shadows are. And for some reason, they don't want him dead. Yet. But...one of my people in Clark's staff says he's beginning to exert some independence. I think he's going to move soon against them."

The noise in the bar was going up, as a fight was starting up. The small man smiled at Byron. "Your idea?"

Byron just gave him a knowing answer. And with that, Bester headed out of the bar. Byron sat for a couple seconds before standing up and heading outside himself. He was Number 1. The very first of Alfred Bester's agents. The personal protégé of the great man.

He headed down the street towards the train station that would lead him home. But, as he walked, a sickening feeling came over his mind. He turned and could feel the shadows around him moving. He threw a psychic burst down the street and a scream filled his mind. He turned and began to run, feeling them closing on him.

He turned to run down an alleyway that was a shortcut to the bus stop, feeling the shadows chasing him, when he ran head-on into a tall creature, standing above him. Two horns covered in skin wrapped around the back of the creatures head, and the creature spat something in its own language. Byron cast a mind burst into the Drakh's mind, and he stumbled barely, before he stood up, holding a red orb in his hand. He muttered an incantation and with a stream of red and white light, the barriers that protected the mind of Byron Gordon was shattered.

It hit him like a thunderbolt as thoughts assailed him from all around. Thoughts of mundanes going about their vile and vulgar deeds. The mindless chattered of animal minds as dogs, cats and birds went to sleep. He tried to lash out, this time physically against the Drakh, but this was no ordinary Drakh. He was a magi, endowed with power from the Dark Ones. The punch connected with the Drakh's chin, but instead on hurting him, the pain transferred to Byron's chin and he stumbled backwards.

"You are oursss," the Drakh laughed as coldly as the grave and Byron's mind collapsed as the Shadows sent their own wave of thoughts against him.

"What shall we be doingsss with thisss one?" the Drakh asked, and the sounds of footsteps came up behind him.

"How powerful is he?" a man's voice coming from the dark.

"Most powerful we have encountered in a whilesss," the Drakh reported.

"Put him in a Shadow ship," the man said, and the Drakh swooped low to grab the unconscious Byron, the Shadows following close to make sure he didn't fall.


	20. Deeper Along War's Path

**Chapter 19: Deeper Along War's Path**

There was no warning. The Shadows either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared to stop it. But, whatever it was, the result was still the same. At 5 PM, Epsilon Standard Time, three heavy G'Quan destroyers dropped out of Hyperspace, gunning for _Babylon 1_. Scrambled fighters barely got out in time to attack the cruisers and by the time the _Aggressor_ and _Arrestor_ arrived on the scene, _Babylon 1_ was heavily damaged, the Narn cruisers plastering the space station in heavy fire.

But, they had managed to drive off the Narn attackers, who limped back into hyperspace. But, it was surprising to the Humans. For the past year all they had been focused on was Minbari. They'd forgotten all about the Centauri-Narn wars that were sweeping the surrounding galaxy. But, as the casualty reports of over two-hundred dead came back, one man was furious.

The door burst open and Mr. Welles came storming up to Mr. Morden, grabbing him by the suit-coat and throwing him against the wall, pinning him there. Morden tried to fight back, but Welles pinned his arm against the wall and pressed close, giving the other man no room to fight. Welles had been a wrestler in his youth, wrestling for both the Ohio High School he'd graduated from and also the University of South Carolina, where he'd won the National Championship three years running. And any wrestler knows the need for being able to work the tight corners.

"How dare you burst into my office!" Morden snarled, all sincere congeniality dropped leaving a mask of embittered rage.

"How dare you?" Welles demanded, "We give you everything you want. We let you hide here. And you let Narns slip through your defenses. Why?"

Morden tried to struggle and Welles pressed harder. Anymore pressure and he'd crack a couple ribs. Welles had also fought more than his share of barroom brawls.

"Operators error," Morden said, grimacing against the pain and pressure.

"'Operators error'?" Welles repeated, "Liar! With forces as advanced as yours, you don't make errors. Now out with the truth! Or so help me..."

"You'll what?' Morden shot back, "Do you really think I'm ever alone? You hurt me, and I assure you you'll be dead before I hit the ground."

The lights shut off in the office and the door closed with a loud bang. He could hear buzzing in his ears, and Welles darted his eyes around, looking for whoever it was. There was enough light from the slits between the sections of the shades on the office door that some light fell into the room.

"I vow that your alliance with us is dead!" Welles growled, "You hear me? Dead!"

A sharp pain exploded in Welles chest and he was lifted from the ground. He couldn't see what was holding him up, but he saw dark blood floating before him, as if on a sword or something. He couldn't scream as he was thrown against a wall and slid to the ground. He could feel the blood flowing from him as Morden pressed his hand against his chest and massaged the hurt out.

"I believe you said our alliance is dead?" he laughed darkly, "No, Mr. Welles. _You_ are the dead."

* * *

Arisia III. Last of the colonies of the Human Remnant. There was no space resistance over the planet, but the Minbari had set up a base on the ground. The _Shadow Walker_ and its companion ships spent the entire day and night blasting the base from orbit. Captain Thompson's father had made it aptly clear he wanted the Minbari blasted out of existence.

Captain Thompson stood next to his first officer, looking over the readouts on her screen. An area over ten miles wide had been pummeled, the craters of the blasts going down perhaps thirty meters into the ground, stretching ten meters wide. Whatever the Shadow-tech ships were carrying fire-wise, it was much more powerful than anything he could imagine possible. The entire forest surrounding the base had been flattened, and those trees not torn apart by the blasts were on fire. Thompson could almost see the smoke from the fires as they reached to the heavens.

"How much longer do we have to keep blasting apart the planet below, _General_?" the Captain emphasized the last word.

"Until I'm satisfied that no Minbari could be alive down there," the old man said, not turning his chair around to address his son.

"Perhaps the General would like to take a rest, sir," he tried that approach. He'd been keeping an eye on the General and he hadn't been to sleep since the engagement started.

"Not until we've cleared the system," General Thompson said, leaning forward in his chair, watching through the viewscreen the planet below. The first rays of the new day were beginning to shine from the opposite side of the planet. It'd make it fifteen hours they'd been bombing this planet.

"General..."

"Am I in command here or not?" the General spun his chair around and slammed his dark hands on the armrests, his black eyes shining like black stars across the bridge as he glared, "Either shut up Captain or I'll remove you from the bridge!" And with that he swung his chair away to look back to the planet.

"You did your best, sir," Commander Gilas muttered to him in a low voice, not looking up at her commanding officer.

"Thank you, Tiffany," he muttered back, "But he's being a d-n fool. He should rest. Or at least give our gunners a rest."

"We all must follow our orders," she said, continuing her work.

"I'm sure you're right," he said, reaching over and taking her hand in his squeezed it, "I just wish I could make him see."

"He hates the Minbari," she said, looking up and smiling at him.

"We all do," he sighed, closing his eyes. It was only then he realized he was holding her hand and let go.

* * *

"So many secrets in here," G'Kar said, Mollari's mind having transformed into a dead city, only pillars remaining, "I've been in hear for maybe an hour. So much wonderfully delicious things. But, I am afraid I didn't find what I was after."

Mollari was on his knees, the violation overpowering his dignity and he was crying. Fierce tears fell from his eyes and they seemed to become a river that swept in front of him, heading out towards an ocean. G'Kar patted Mollari on the head.

"A pity you didn't have more to offer," he made to turn away, "But, all your work come for not it would seem. Farewell, Prime Minister. I no leave you to kill you in the real world."

"No!" Mollari wept, for once in his life begging, "There is too much to do! A darkness is sweeping across the galaxy. I am meant to stop it."

"Look closer to home," G'Kar said, "And not to Narn."

And with that, G'Kar vanished and his eyes continually stared at him from the skies above.

* * *

"It is time for him to die," G'Kar said with a sigh. "A pity that. He'd have made a wonderful ally. If he wasn't Centauri that is. Make it quick Ta'Lon. He doesn't deserve to suffer."

Ta'Lon nodded and grabbing his sword pulled out the blade, preparing for the strike. Only then did the scream fill their minds, and the Shadows that had been following G'Kar all these months attacked.


	21. Ceremonies of Light and Dark

**Chapter 20: Ceremonies of Light and Dark**

It wasn't every day that a warrior could look upon a living legend. _Zha'Valen'Venni_ might not have been a sentient being, and might have been nothing more than trapping of metal and iron, but it was living all the same. And as Neroon came closer to the station, flying in the Minbari flier, he was amazed that even the Humans could not see it. Sure, Minbari technology was much more sophisticated than what the Humans had, but surely they couldn't be so blind as not to see the massive station sitting outside their door.

His mission was simple. His lord Marrain had sent him to take command of the Rangers. They were leaderless, adrift. And he'd bring them back and give them purpose against the defiler Kalain.

Yes, he could give them purpose.

"This is Alyt Neroon of the Wind Shields to _Zha'Valen'Venni_," he said as he opened a hailing channel to the station.

"This is Anla'Shok Brimarri, Second of the Rangers," a stern proud voice, (a voice of a warrior Neroon, noted) announced himself, "What business do you have with the Anla'Shok?"

"By order of Satai Marrain of the old Grey Council I have been sent to take over control of the Rangers of Valen," Neroon said, using the formal language and naming them as Valen himself had called them. Anla'Shok had only been a nickname Valen had used that had become the name for them that most Minbari associated with that vaunted order of Warrior-Priests.

"You shall find that to be harder than you would expect, Alyt Neroon of the Wind Shields," Brimarri replied, "Make your way to Docking Bay 17."

"Thank you," Neroon said, and followed the directions into the opening of the station. As he approached and took one last glance at this silent testimonial of history, something struck him as odd. He'd seen one of the human stations as he approached and he had to confess, this Minbari Station seemed to be almost identical to the one he'd seen.

As his ship settled into the docking bay and he stepped out of the open cockpit, he looked as an Anla'Shok honor guard was there to met him.

"Follow us," the tallest of them said, clearly not Brimarri, who had a deeper voice. The man's bone was Worker Caste.

But, Nerron had no time for personal distaste. He had a job to do here. He assumed he'd have to prove he was worthy of leading the Anla'Shok. Maybe some tests on his prowess with the denn'bok, which he had been trained by Sech Durhan himself when that great man had been younger. Maybe his lineage would come into question, but he could trace his genealogy back to Rashok, who had served Valen faithfully until his betrayal.

They led him down a corridor filled with Tak'cha going about work maintaining the station and Anla'Shok as they move about. How they seemed to work in harmony. But Neroon came not for peace and fuzyy feelings. No, he came to lead them to war.

They led him to a turbo-lift and stepping inside one of the Rangers called out, "Chambers of Entil'zha."

The turbo-lift rose and he watched them, his eyes scanning them. He was looking for their weaknesses. They were remarkably well trained at composure, but the one infront he could kill first. The Minbari's head was bent back a bit, and a quick thrust could break his neck. The Minbari to his right's foot was twitching out of a built up energy that wanted to be released. The quick kill would make him react, but not fast enough. A quick trust between his ribcage and a twist would break his ribs and he could then turn and cut the throat of the other Minbari who was lazily looking to the side. Yes, he could kill them all in a few seconds.

How not could he lead the Anla'Shok?

The lift stopped and the doors slid open and he followed the guards as they marched out and headed down a hallway. About five doors down they stopped and the door slid open.

"Enter," the lead Anla'Shok said.

Neroon smirked as he stepped inside the Private Chambers of Entil'zha and found sitting there a man. A human. Wearing the robes of the Anla'Shok. The human looked up with him and stood, and in an accent akin to a Minbari's said, "You are Alyt Neroon?"

"Yes," he said, "And who are you who defiles the Anla'Shok with your presence?"

"I am Marcus Cole," his eyes flashed, "The successor of Lennon. Ranger One. _Entil'zha_."

"Over my dead body!" Neroon said, "You cannot lead the Rangers. Only Minbari can lead. I was chosen by the Grey Council itself."

"And I was chosen by the Vorlons," Marcus replied with fire rising in his soul, "And your Grey Council is dead. _I_ lead the Rangers."

"I invoke Denn'shah!" Neroon snarled, grabbing his denn'bok and pulling it from his belt.

"To the death?" Marcus Cole smiled sadly. "So be it. But, let us do it where all the Anla'Shok can see it. Then they can witness for themselves if I may lead them into darkness and shadow."

"If you wish to humiliate yourself in front of the entire Anla'Shok," Neroon smiled gleefully, "Who am I to refuse?"

* * *

G'Kar watched as the creature, standing four feet above anyone in the room swept forward, his shimmering body barely registering in his mind before Tu'Pari collapsed on the floor, his chest exploding in a mass of brown flesh. Ta'Lon swung his sword around, and slashed at the air. The creature screamed as he was struck but lashed back, kicking backwards and Ta'Lon couldn't move fast enough to escape the foot.

G'Kar reached for his own blaster, but felt a hot flash of pain as a great gash appeared in his leg and he fell. The pain burned fiercely, but he dodged the next strike, the pain giving him clarity of sight and thought. He rolled towards Ta'Lon who was already collecting himself, but his eyes were those of a dazed Mol'keren bird. He grabbed Ta'Lon's sword and pulled it out of his hand and set an on-guard defensive stance and waited for the creature to move before he slashed, swinging the blade as hard as he could.

The blade connected and sank deep into whatever it was that was attacking them, but the creature yanked hard and G'Kar, unwilling to let go was pulled from the ground, knocking Ta'Lon over when his heels connected with the Narn's chin and was sent spiraling over and smashing into the wall and sliding down next to Mollari. He looked up, red spots appearing in his vision from the hit to the back of his head.

Mollari muttered and came to and blinking slowly looked up at the creature. Grunting, he shoved himself up the wall, standing tall against the monster and staggered forward. _Obviously he is not thinking clearly_, G'Kar thought amusedly to himself as Londo reached up his hands in balled fists and prepared to strike the creature. But before Mollari could do anything, he was thrown across the room, tumbling over Tu'Pari's bloody mess of a corpse and landed against a couple steps that led to the upper level of the room.

The creature advanced, blood trailing it's every movement. Blood that sizzled as it touched the ground and burned into the metal plating. The creature stood above Mollari and prepared to strike, Mollari unable to even so much as move.

And then, with an explosion of light that grew with such intensity that the creature exploded violently with a mess of black chitin flying everywhere, there stood a man.

"Sorry about that," the human said, "But I do hate it when people try to mess up my plans. WarMaster G'Kar I presume?"

"Yea...yes," G'Kar muttered, forcing himself to sit up.

"I am Galen," the man bowed, pressing a hand to his chest and holding his staff out, "A Technomage. I do not want you to kill Londo Mollari. He fights the darkness that you have seen stretching forth it's hand. He fights to preserve Centauri Prime from the Shadows. Or, as your people call it...the Ancient Enemy."

"So..." G'Kar said, squinting at the being in front of him, "You also want me to end this war?"

"Oh yes," Galen said, standing tall, "The greatest victory the darkness can achieve is when good men fight. But, the war will not end until the current Emperor is removed from the throne. Unfortunately, this Emperor cannot be removed by poison or anything the Centauri would normally do. I want you to give my allies on Centauri Prime the chance they need."

"What are you..."

"I want you to conquer Centauri Prime, until the one we've decided should be Emperor is ready."

* * *

The day was decidedly too bright for such a solemn occasion. The burnt remains of her husband had been brought to her, but they were so burnt that there was no way for her to recognize her husband. The investigator at the door had told her there had been a fire at a bar where her husband had gone too, and he'd died along with seven other patrons and the bartender, who wasn't able to get the doors to open, not noticing they had been locked.

Lyta had sobbed furiously. She thought she had used up all her tears when she had lost Zack. But, there had been such a love for Byron that her heart couldn't handle it. As she sat at the funeral, looking at the casket, which was ready to be lowered into the ground, she looked up into the sky and wondered how dare the weather be so perfect on a day she had lost her husband.

As she sat there, her eyes swollen from the tears which had finally stopped, a man walked up beside her.

"May I sit down?" the man asked and she looked up at a smug man who seemed to be genuinely concerned for her.

"Of...course," her voice cracked as he sat down. That's where her husband would have sat. He always preferred sitting on the right side of her. Felt he could ward off evil spirits if he sat there. Or some other d-n, loveable nonsense.

"A shame," he said, sitting back, matching her posture, "He was a good man."

"And how would you know that?" she demanded, her voice more angry then she had meant for it to be.

He shrugged. "Night of his death I asked him if he'd sign on with my company," he replied, "Nice and polite man. He even said yes. But, now he won't see the rewards his actions could do."

"He was that," she spoke with a sad chuckle, "But now he's gone. I'm alone."

She buried her face in her hands, as another torrent of tears spilled out of her eyes. In a friendly manner he placed his hand on her shoulder. The hand felt unusually warm, but she didn't notice.

"You are never alone," he said, "You still have friends that care for you."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, "Who?"

"Your husband mentioned a...Zack Allen," the man said after a pause, "Seemed mighty...preoccupied when we came to that subject. Guess he didn't like him much."

"No," she muttered, her thoughts turning to Zack, inexplicably. She was no longer focused on the funeral as she was the man she had loved before her husband. Not her first lover, but definitely the one who was more passionate towards her than any other man. The whole funeral gained secondary importance in her mind.

"Until later, Mrs. Gordon," the man said, standing up and preapring to walk away, "I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Morden stepped away from her, smiling to himself. No Keepers. No Drakh magi. No, the power of suggestion that would overwhelm her every thought until she would believe she'd explode and die if she didn't fulfill her desires. And those now were Zack Allen.

* * *

They stood in the Assembly Hall, the great _Entil'zha_ of ages past looking down on these two men as they prepared to fight to the death. And the Anla'Shok looked on in apprehension.

On one hand stood Marcus Cole. A human. The first _Entil'zha_ not a Minbari. He had been touched by the Vorlons, endowed with knowledge and wisdom. They had adopted him into their ranks as easily as they would have any Tak'cha or Minbari.

On the other hand stood Neroon of the Wind Shields. He was known by all. His reputation was nearly as great as Sinoval, Dukhat or Shakiri. All these men stood at the height of Minbari perfection. Neroon himself had slain thirty humans in hand to hand combat and his fleet had killed over a hundred thousand humans. He was good at it, very good.

And Marcus Cole was human.

The stood barely a foot from each other, their denn'boks pressing against each other. Neroon was the taller of the two by a few inches but as they stared into each other's eyes, there seemed no difference in height or confidence. Both fought for a perceived right. A right to rule. A right to lead. A right to live.

Suddenly they sprang back, Marcus holding his denn'bok behind him in the air. Neroon had his lowered, his hands gripping the middle of the fighting pike. They circled each other slowly, waiting for the other to lash out first. Those who watched seemed to see a fire roaring around them, and the lit fuse of an explosive waiting to go off.

At last it exploded, and Marcus leapt first, bringing his denn'bok down. But Neroon's position was perfect to block and then throw Marcus off balance. As Marcus stumbled forward, Neroon swept the back of his denn'bok around and slammed it against Marcus' back. Not enough to hurt. But enough to get his attention.

"Playing games are we?" Marcus laughed as he advanced, his denn'bok coming to the attack, and Neroon pulling it out of the way just in time to force Marcus to overexert himself.

"I want you to realize that this is pointless and give up now," Neroon smiled grimly, "i have no desire to kill you, human. Just give up and surrender the title of Entil'zha to me, and you can walk free."

"Is that it then?" Marcus grinned, finally connecting with Neroon's fighting pike and shoving the tips to the ground, making them both bend close to each other, "I've been blessed by the Crystal Queen of the Vorlon Empire to lead the Rangers. What have you got? Nothing but the mewling of a toothless old cat who hasn't realized it's already dead."

The back of Neroon's fighting pike swung forward with a twist and slammed hard against Marcus temple and he staggered back, bloody flowing from a bleeding cut. Neroon pressed the advantage and jammed the fighting pike towards his opponent's stomach. Marcus gripped both ends of the denn'bok and connecting with the edge of the Minbari's pike forced it away, but Neroon twirled into the throw and was right by Marcus' side, and using his elbow connected with the side of Marcus' skull, next to the eye. Marcus staggered sideways, trying to balance himself.

"Are you sure this old cat is as toothless as you thought?" Neroon snarled, advancing slowly on Marcus, holding the denn'bok to his side, "I am offering you a chance to leave this place alive. Why is that so hard to accept? The Vorlons. Bah! Where were they when your world fell, when your people went cold and hungry from want? Where were they when your proud warriors fell before a foe they could never hope to defeat? You owe them nothing."

"But above all," Marcus snarled, "Remain true to one's self!"

His hand was impossibly fast and it cracked alongside Neroon's jaw, sending a broken tooth flying. Marcus swept his denn'bok towards the floor and connected with Neroon's leg which swept out from under him and he fell to the ground. But As he came in for the kill, Neroon's pike swept for his own legs and he jumped over it. Neroon had thrown off his opponent long enough that he could roll across the floor and stand up and swung his own pike at Marcus, aiming for his neck. Marcus dived to the floor and did a roll, coming up to a keen as Neroon followed up his swing with a downward swing.

Marcus stopped the pike with his own pike as he held it up, but Neroon was behind his and swung the other end against his back and he felt a rib snap near his shoulder. The pain was excruciating and he fell forward. Before he could move again, Neroon had struck another rib.

"Look," he said, "I just broke two of your ribs." Marcus turned and he struck again. "Sorry, make that three!"

"In Valen's Name!" Marcus bellowed and used the pike to push himself up, and he fought as best as he could. He drove Neroon back, and he could see Neroon beginning to sweat. Both were finding this fight more of a challenge than they had ever expected. But, as all battles are decided, he with the more experience always wins. Marcus struck, pressing him back and he moved a foot forward preparing his next move. Neroon struck where the ankle and foot bones connect and Marcus collapsed as he felt the bones pop and no longer able to support his weight.

He had fallen on his back and the broken ribs in the back of his rib cage dug into him making him hurt. Neroon stood over him and raised the denn'bok, preparing to finish the job.

"No!" Brimarri shouted, jumping between Neroon and his fallen lord, "You will not kill him. Or in Valen's name, I will kill you!"

"Out of my way, boy," Neroon spat, "this is between me and the human!"

The guards that he had followed also ran to stand between him and their lord. They had drawn their denn'boks.

"Do you really wish to defy me?" he shouted, "I won this contest! I will kill him and take my rightful place as your leader."

"Then you shall have to go through us," Brimarri said. Then, one by one, denn'boks extended, until it sounded like the rushing of a great river. Neroon looked around, and the Anla'Shok were advancing on him. Hundreds of them. Each poised to fight him.

"Why?" he snarled, turning to Brimarri, "Why fight for him? What do you owe him?"

"He is _Entil'zha_," the Ranger said, defiance in his eyes, "He came not to conquer. But to lead. We stand on the bridge, that none may pass. We stand before the gate, that none may enter. We stand between the candle and the light. We stand between the darkness and the light. We are Anla'Shok. And you will not hurt _Entil'zha_ Marcus Cole."

Neroon looked deep into his eyes. Then, he turned to look around at those who surrounded him. Lifting up his denn'bok, he threw it to the ground.

"There is blood between us," he declared, and he stormed out of the room. His wrath making all part before him.


	22. All My Dreams are of You

**Chapter 21: All My Dreams are of You**

May 17. How fast time seemed to fly in this place. Helped that all of them had stuff to busy themselves with. No one was at all without work to do. But, there was also the visions. They all had them. Some longer than others. None ever were the same twice.

Sheridan stood in the observation deck below Command and Control and looked out at the stars. Here, he could glimpse across the vastness of space and see the light of stars that had died millions of years before. The last glimpses of some ancient proud civilization that was no more. The last light that had shined on some great composer as he gave his last and yet greatest performance. The first sunshine on the face of a child the first time it was taken home from the hospital, safe in the loving arms of parents that had fallen in love with the child at first sight.

He was so enthralled in the thoughts that passed over him, he didn't notice Miss Musante as she stepped up to his side. She had been quiet downcast ever since her failed seduction of him, and they had kept their distances.

"Captain," she said, startling him.

"Yes, Miss Musante?" he said, glancing down at her.

"I am sorry for what I did the other day," she said, taking a slow and steady breath, "I...really don't know what came over me. I was just..."

"No need to apologize," he said with a small smile.

"Really?" she said, "But I really want to."

"You are a lovely woman, Julie," he said, turning to her and putting his hands on either side of her, rubbing her arms, "And if I wasn't still grieving over my dead wife, who knows? I probably would have fallen for it."

She smiled and turned from him, looking out at the stars. "This is quiet a view," she said, and he let go of her arms, "Makes you feel insignificant."

"Yeah," he agreed, taking the view in again, "Too bad we won't be here much longer."

"We're leaving?" she asked, looking up at him, "Where?"

"You heard about the Markabs?"

"Yeah. Shame that."

"I don't like grave-robbers," he told her, his eyes hardening, "And I plan to ensure no one steals from there. We'll be heading out sometime in the short future."

"That's news," she breathed, "Good thing everyone here is loyal to the cause."

"Ain't that a fact," he nodded.

* * *

Across the station, in her quarters. Delenn moved to place her book on the table next to her couch. Humans didn't know much about designing things, that for sure. Like flat beds, what fool would tempt fate by laying flat? But, she was content here. Even she was surprised by that.

Here, she could do good. Help out the people she'd help slaughter. Save them from themselves. Just then, she froze.

Back on the observation deck, Sheridan also froze, staring out into the stars.

* * *

Delenn and Sheridan were sitting by each other. There was a sense of both loss and joy. They were looking down...at a child. A baby, wrapped in a blue blanket. And both felt such love for it as they had never felt for anything else. They looked up at each other and smiled, love flaming in their eyes.

* * *

The vision ended and Sheridan came back to himself, tears flowing down his face. His greatest hope had been to have a child. And he had seen it. He turned and ran from the room, running towards the turbolift.

Delenn also raced from her room, tears and hair flying wildly. She knew Sheridan had gone to the observation deck to go star gazing. She needed to see him.

Sheridan rose to the top of the lift and the door opened and he bounded forth, his long legs carrying him down the hall. He turned the corner that would lead to Delenn's quarters, and she was there, running towards him, tears falling from her cheeks. They both had seen the same vision, as fierce and as bright as anything they had ever experienced. And they threw themselves into each other's arms and collapsed to the ground, holding each other tight, letting their love finally take real shape and form.

Lennier stood behind them, and when he saw such love, he swore to himself they would never be separated as long as he lived. He would die for them. He, who was the shadow, who was always forgotten, partook of the most powerful and selfless moment of love he had ever seen. He had not been visited by any visions that day, but what he saw opened his eyes in a way that nothing had ever done.

* * *

Marcus laid in the bed, an Anla'Shok doctor tending to his wounds. Outside the room, looking in was Ivanova. She had a way of knowing everything that was going on, and the news of his duel with Neroon and near death at his hands had reached her. And so she was here, watching after the man who had kept a watch over her for so long.

"How is he?" she asked, turning to a tall Minbari named Brimarri, who she knew was Marcus' second in command.

"Not well," he admitted, "Neroon was a much more experience warrior. Entil'zha Marcus should never have accepted the Denn'shah. He would have died had we not intervened..."

"I don't need the rant," Ivanova reprimanded him, "What's his injuries?"

"Three broken ribs and internal bleeding," he recounted, "His ankle and foot bones were snapped out of place and he has fractures on his spine and a dislocated shoulder. He's lucky to be alive."

"Is he healing?" she asked.

"At a quick pace," Brimarri replied with a shake of his head, "But not quickly enough. We will have to move soon and without his leadership, we'll be unable to function as fully as we would with him."

Susan looked at her friend. The bandages that bound his many wounds made him look like a mummy in some old museum. She couldn't believe that someone as strong as Marcus, who had been transformed as he had, could have fallen before anyone. Even a Minbari.

"If you do not mind the question," Brimarri said, breaking the silence, "What is he to you exactly?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him, "He's a friend. Why do you ask?"

Brimarri looked surprised. "Whenever he talks about you, he gets..." then he seemed to realize what he was saying and stopped talking.

"He gets what?" she demanded, looking up at him.

"I have duties to perform," he replied and hurried out of the room.

"What do you mean?" she called after him, "Don't you walk away from me!"


	23. New Found Alliances

**Chapter 22: New Found Alliances**

"Admiral Thompson," the navigator called out.

"What is it, Navigation? Thompson asked, standing next to the navigation charts of this sector.

With the liberation of the Arisia III Mining Colony, Epsilon 3 had dispatched the _Arrestor_ and the _Aggressor_ Hyperion-Class Destroyers to link up with the _Shadow Squadron_. Even now Captains Stephanie Eckland and James Mandala stood by him, going over proposed attack routes to the Proxima System. That was the next stage in the war to drive the Minbari to defeat.

"Scans are showing an unidentified bogie closing on our position," she reported.

"From which direction?"

"Starboard sixty degree," she said, taking a look back at the radar, "Sir, the direction is the exact approach from the Proxima Gate."

_Minbari!_ Thompson cursed inwardly. They were coming to disrupt his attempts to rid the galaxy of their slime. Well, he wouldn't have it.

"Bring forward gunports to bear on the enemy ship," he said, not even waiting to get a clearer reading, "I want him out of my sky."

"Wait!" the communications officer called out from his station, holding up a hand to his earpiece.

Thompson turned a glare at the young man. "I don't recall you were promoted over me, Mister," he snapped.

"They are hailing us," he replied, then after a small hesitation, "In English sir."

Thompson turned a glance at the Captains, holding each captain's one by one. There was a mixture of confusion and some satisfaction. Captain Eckland reached a hand to her neck and scratched. Mandala frowned slightly. And his son, who was standing at the end of the table, leaned forward and placed his hands on it.

"Put them an open channel," he said, standing with ramrod back, "This is General Samuel Thompson onboard the Human Remnant Flagship _Shadow Walker_. Identify yourself."

"This is Katz of the Minbari Worker Clan," a woman's voice in very good English despite the accent said, "I come here at the behest of the Minbari resistance to seek you out."

"Minbari Resistance?" Thompson scoffed, "Who are you resisting? And why come to us? Are people in a perpetual state of war."

"We come to seek your aid against a threat that is trying to tear my own people apart and will result in bloodshed across the entire galaxy," the woman said.

Thompson turned his gaze towards the Captains. Each wore an expression of disbelief. Why would they come looking for them to help them? Had they no idea that the Humans were gunning for their homeworld? And would kill all they met?

"Perhaps I should present my proposal in person," she said. "May I come aboard and speak with you?"

Thompson rubbed his chin. Whoever this was had to be either certainly brave, or foolish. But, if all else failed, this could prove a nugget of information. Defenses and whatnot.

"Come on board than," he said, "But I warn you, one false move, and we will blow you out of the sky."

* * *

A tall woman walked into the conference room, flanked by two men. They wore dark brown robes and they held their hands in front of them, crossed. Captain Thompson knew elite warriors, no matter what race they came from. But, he had two guards flanking him, and there was roughly three hundred trained soldiers on this ship. They'd make sure they wouldn't leave alive if it came down to that.

"Speak your piece," General Thompson said, sitting at a desk.

The woman, who was probably this Katz person who had spoken over the comm-channel, did not sit, but remained standing. But, then again, there had been offer for her to sit. Nor did she probably expect any hospitality on this ship.

"I have been sent here by Marrain," she said, "Once Satai and now exiled by a warlord who has risen up and thrown down the Grey Council and taken over the government for himself. He wants to form an alliance so we can break the shilvatte that sits on the throne."

"'Shilvatte'?" Thompson asked, "What is that?"

"The closest equivalent is...'beast'," she said, although by the sounds of it, she wasn't entirely sure of that.

"What has this 'beast' done that is so terrible that this...Marrain would come looking for my help?" the General asked, leaning back in his chair and laying an arm on the table.

"He had exiled any of would not accept his lordship over the Federation," she replied, "Murdered those who dare speak out. My people live in fear of the dark now, for there are assassins that roam Minbari space, murdering innocents that have not abided time allowances to be out of their homes. He has even fired upon and destroyed a spaceport where both Minbari and aliens lived, as an example of what would happen to those who would defy his rule. He has even cast out the Anla'Shok from our borders."

Captain Thompson frowned. Most of what she said made no sense. Assassins murdering innocents and not important people? Destroying spaceports? And what of these Anla'Shok? What were they to be spoken as if they were of consequence?

"I go to war against your race," the General said slowly, "Do you really think it wise to side with me?"

"We have a mutual enemy," she said, "Marrain opposed the war. But the people's will drove him to it. The Council was divided on the issue. Kalain however will stop at nothing until the Galaxy is his shade of perfection."

"And what would we get for our involvement?" Thompson asked.

"My lord Marrain," she said with a lifting of her chin, "Will give back to you your home-system. You will have Earth back. And we will no more war against you, but leave you alone."

General Thompson sat there, deep in thought. His son looked at the woman, and saw nothing but the truth from her. If this was the case, they wouldn't have to fight as hard. And they'd gain allies from the enemy side. Defectors.

"I will have to consult my government," he finally said, "I cannot speak in the terms of alliances or anything of like manner. You shall recieve word by the end of the day."

Katz bowed her head and turning strode from the room, the two elite guards glaring at them as they backed up, not turning and taking their eyes off the humans.


	24. Closeness of Friends

**Chapter 23: Closeness of Friends**

Vir walked into the palace of Centauri Prime, avoiding the gaze of the Palace Guards. He never felt comfortable in this place, not even though his friend Cartagia sat on the throne. There was just something sinister about the Guards. Perhaps because they could never be persuaded to join the Conspiracy. Yes. That had to be it.

He walked up to the doors of the throne room, and could see between the bars Cartagia sitting with leg draped over the arm of the chair. Before him stood Minister Varini, who looked more jittery than usual and Lord-Admiral Dormo and...his father in law, Lord-General Marrago. He stood rooted to the spot, and the Guards gave him an inquisitive look.

He had just decided to turn and leave when he heard Cartagia call out, "Ah! Vir! Do not stand out there. Come, come!"

He lifted his head and taking a letting out a deep sigh entered the throne room, the guards opening the doors for him. Upon stepping into the room, his nose crinkled at a foul reek that came from his left. He turned and there was a Selvan there, clad in Black bone armor, a robe of black with red borders that fell to his ankles, thrown back behind him and tied around the middle with a belt that looked like it had been a scalp of some creature. He stopped infront of the throne and bowed his head.

"Your Majesty," he said, "You summoned me?"

"Of course I did," he flicked an invisible speck of dirt off his white silk pants, "And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Cartagia? We are friends...aren't we?"

"Yes, Sire," Vir nodded, "But it would be...well, you know...disrespectful to say the least."

"Well said," Cartagia clapped his hands twice, "That's why I have always liked you. You might be a bit slower on the uptake, but you have propriety. Do you not think so Lord-General?"

Lord-General Marrago even at his older age was a giant of a man. He stood at least half a foot taller than everyone in the room and probably half a foot wider than most, but it was not from fat. He was pure muscle. His eyes were not as keen as they had probably been when they were younger, but when he looked at a person, they could feel a heavy weight from his gaze. And he turned that gaze towards his son-in-law.

"That's the rumor," he rumbled out.

"Anyways," Cartagia continued on as if he hadn't said anything, "We were just discussing the new plans to go to strike the Narns. Prime Minister Mollari has retired to his family estate to rest after the vigorous planning."

"Then..." Vir said hopefully, "We'll be driving them out?"

"Of course," Cartagia said as a man who has a great present he wishes to bestow, "We shall bypass the Narn fleet completely and strike Narn itself. The Narns shall then turn back to defend the homeworld, and they shall be defeated on their home field. Is that not exciting?"

Bypass the Narn ships in the Centauri Republic? Vir frowned.

"How many ship will we be sending?" he asked.

"One hundred and nine of our greatest warship to strike them!" Cartagia said, "Leaving only fifteen to defend Centauri Prime."

Vir looked over the Marrago and Dormo. Neither looked pleased, but they had already objected and been silenced. They had learned to live with as little objections as possible. Unlike his father, Cartagia would silence those who opposed him. Permanently.

"Well?" Cartagia pressed, "As our ambassador to Minbar, what do you think?"

"It's..." he struggled, "Ambitious. To say the least."

"I know," Cartagia smiled, his eyes sparkling in self-awe, "I'll be hailed as a god when this is over! Risking everything for the great stroke. I shall go down in history to stand beside Emperor Maxi the Tyrant and Jellimo the Warlord. They shall speak my name in reverence."

"And what if the Narns do not go after the Fleet?" Vir asked slowly, "And attack Centauri Prime."

"I trust Lord-Admiral Dormo to hold the line," Cartagia looked at the Lord-Admiral, "And if he fails, well...a God needs a choir to sing his soul unto heaven."

Vir bowed slightly. "I must be off," he informed, "I need to be readying to go back to Minbar."

He turned to leave and headed out of the room, his thoughts a flurry of activity. What right did Cartagia have to endanger the lives of those under him? What was the madness that was taking hold of him? Had he really been so blind as not to see what his friend was?

"No," he spoke aloud, firmly to himself, "He is the Emperor and my friend. My trust in him is not misplaced. Malachi and Mollari will see that as well."

"Hold up, Vir," a voice said behind him, making him start. He turned to see Marrago walking up towards him. He had only met his father-in-law briefly before, and he had been intimidated by the large man. And he still was.

"Yes?" he asked.

"May I walk with you?" Marrago asked, although it was not so much a question as a demand.

"Fine," Vir shrugged, continuing on his way.

"You are friends with Cartagia?" he asked, although Vir wasn't sure if it was accusatory or genuine.

"Since we were friends," Vir replied, heading out of the open gate of the palace and down the steps.

"Then cannot you talk to him and call off this insane mission?"

"No," Vir firmly replied, "No, I won't be able to convince him to turn back on this endeavor."

Marrago let out an anguished sigh. "Perhaps my judgment was wrong about you," he muttered.

Vir frowned and turned to him. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"I arraigned this marriage between my daughter and yourself because I believed you might be able to hold you own against anyone," Marrago told him, "But, if you can't even get a friend to get off the dark path they are on, perhaps I misjudged your character."

Vir felt something inside him harden. He had seen and fought Shadows. He led a group that was the salvation of this entire sector. And this man here dared question his character.

"Forgive me, General," Vir replied, feeling the fire rise inside of him, "I have seen things that make the troubles we have seem insignificant. I stand on the brink of destiny. And no matter what you or anyone thinks, I am no mere puppet of the throne. I do what I need to. No matter if I get fame or disappointment. And you, frankly, are truly nothing compared to the darkness I fight."

Marrago looked at him, the look of a warrior sizing up the man in front of him. Slowly a smile spread across his face and he nodded in appreciation.

"Good," he replied, "There may have been some small wisdom in letting you have my daughter."

"We love each other," Vir replied, holding his chin up, "What greater wisdom is there."

"Yes," Marrago said, more than a little troubled, "So my daughter tells me."


	25. Resting Conspiracy's Ugly Head

**Chapter 24: Resting Conspiracy's Ugly Head**

The outpost of the Minbari Federation on the planet Ziger was a dusty place. There was very little water to be found, and it was more a dumping ground for warriors that had discipline problems. They did very little but bickered amongst themselves, and the Alyt of the run down outpost, Tilgeran of the Ten Fane of Chudomo had given up any pretense of trying to enforce law and order amongst the men and women of his command.

It was late in the afternoon and his head was resting against the table, his eyes closed. Hopefully he could fall asleep. It had been a normal day, which meant nothing happening at a swift pace. A tall glass of a fruit drink was to the side, half-drunk.

There was a chiming from the door and he groaned. They couldn't give him one day without problems rising? This wasn't an important enough place to be fighting!

"What?" he asked, annoyed at the intrusion.

"Sorry, my lord," one of his men said, walking with bowed head into his private chambers, "A ship has landed just outside the perimeter wall, and someone has emerged from the ship."

Tilgeran didn't look up. "Who is it?" he asked.

"The Betrayer," the Minbari said, the man said, "Marrain."

Marrain strode forward. Unarmed, and without guard. These outcasts that looked at him were in awe of the confidence and complete control Marrain emanated as he passed through the gates of Minogo. The guards called for him to stop, but forward he strode, in the black garb of the Warrior Clan. All looked up at him as he walked, and found nothing within themselves to resist him.

He strode up towards the commander of the outpost, who looked at him, unsure whether he should be bowing or fighting him. He stopped just feet from him and looked deep into his soul, and found virtue, garnished in the rust of being outcast.

"I am Marrain!" he said in a voice that carried throughout the run down waypoint. "For too long have you men wasted away in the darkness. Alone, forgotten. Cast aside. I come to ask for your allegiance and to help me cast down the Usurper who calls himself Emperor. Join me in a cause holdier and more noble then you have ever dreamed. What say you? Will you join me?"

* * *

Meanwhile, as Marrain rallied the outcasts and defects into his ranks, another man slowly climbed out of the hover-carriage and walking on weak legs headed towards his estate. He had no memory of where he had been or what he had done over the past couple months. Last he remembered he had been onboard the Selvan flagship. And now...Londo Mollari, Prime Minister of the great Lion of the Galaxy could not remember what had happened.

"Did I not warn you?" Timov primly asked as she stepped up to him and walked by him, not offering to assist him, "This whole politics is nothing but trouble. But no...you have to go off and do whatever it is that nearly gets you killed."

"You are a Nakaleen Feeder," he grumped, "Sucking the life out of anything that gets close to you."

"Better that then dead," she held her chin up in the air.

"Gods Tomov," he breathed out, slowly walking up the steps towards the mansion, "Where is the rest of my adoring wives?"

"Mariel is off sinking her claws into who knows who," Timov waved a hand, "And Daggir is probably wasting your money of frivolous things."

Mollari made a fake enthusiastic smile. "Yes, it is good to know I'm appreciated by my adoring wives."

Timov's eyes grew wide. "I wouldn't go that far," she smartly replied and continued on her way, walking away from him.


	26. Here Comes the Inquisitor

Note: This is the midway point of this book.

**Chapter 25: Here Comes the Inquisitor**

"We will be moving out at the end of the week," Sinclair said, "It's mid-June and I feel our time is about up."

"Agreed," Sheridan said, his heels raised up and on the desk.

"Do you mind?" Sinclair asked, looking annoyingly at his feet.

"I don't mind," Sheridan grinned back at him.

Sinclair rolled his eyes. It had been a very long day and he was ready to go to bed. "Alert Garibaldi that we might enter a furball as we try to pull away."

"That'll please him," Sheridan rolled his eyes, "He's being chomping at the bit to show us how good his seventy-man team is."

There was a knock at the side of the door and they turned to see Delenn enter the room. And following her was Kosh. The look in Delenn's eyes were that of concern.

"John?" she asked, "Can I speak with you a moment?"

"Of course," he said, feeling his heart skip a beat. Man, how lovely a woman she was. "What is it?"

"Kosh is having a visitor come here to...visit with me and you," she informed him.

"And who will be visiting us?" Sheridan asked, suspicion growing.

-An Inquisitor- Kosh said.

They heard a sharp intake of breath and Sheridan looked over at Lennier, who was looking with an expression akin to fear. If Lennier, who was among the most steadfast people Sheridan knew reacted that way, it was not a good sign.

"Why?" Sinclair asked, "What do you need?"

-We need to be sure.-

"Who are we?" Sheridan asked, standing up "And what do you need to be sure of?"

-You- Kosh's eyestalk turned to him and then turning to Delenn -And you.-

"Why?" Sinclair asked, "What do you need to be sure of?"

Delenn was the one that answered. "As we are to lead the fight against the Shadows," she explained, moving up to Sheridan and taking his hands in hers, "They need to make sure that the choice is correct. That we are supposed to do this thing."

"Why not me?" Sinclair asked, standing up himself, "Am I not a leader in this fight?"

-This is not your time- Kosh said. -It is theirs.-

Sheridan looked into Delenn's green eyes and saw the fear and trust. Yes, she was afraid of what could happen. But, she trusted Kosh enough to believe. And he trusted her.

"Fine," he said, "When will he be here?"

-Within the hour.-

* * *

They went to an abandoned room in one of the more least visited parts of the station. Neither of them had been visited by any temporal flashes, but as they walked they were deep in thought. What was this to be done? What could possibly be in store. They arrived at an open hatch way and a voice spoke out, in a crisp and precise voice, "Just her."

"Who are you?" Sheridan demanded.

"Who I am is not in question here," the voice replied from the room beyond, "Now Delenn shall come in alone."

"Not until I know who you are!" Sheridan snorted.

"Will it allow me to pursue my Lords work if I give you the name?" the voice asked, a hint of amusement in it.

"I'll be willing to allow it," Sheridan said, looking defiantly at the open doorway.

"My name is Sebastian."

* * *

Delenn entered the room. Alone she walked and as soon as she had passed out of reach of the hatch it slammed shut and locked itself. She glanced around and pipes and metallic framework surrounded here, the gentle whirling of large fans thumping in the air.

"Step into the light," the voice commanded and she looked at a pillar of light that shone down upon the center of the room. Slowly she walked, her heart racing as she was getting closer and closer to it.

She stepped inside and circular ringlets slid across the floor and stopped inches from her feet.

"The manacles were made for you," the voice said, "Now slip them on and there they shall remain. You can remove them at any time, but it will automatically be a forfeit and admission that you are not worthy to carry out the cause of the Lords of Order."

She knelt down and picking up the cold metal slid one down onto her arms. They were not made to be discomforting, but they contracted ever so slightly until they wouldn't slip off...unless she took them off. She slowly stood back up.

There was a sound of tapping. Measured tapping. Footstep, tap, footstep, footstep, tap. And she could see in the haze a small man with an antiquated outfit stepping forward. He wore a strange hat with a high top. A vest that was fitted. Black shiny shoes. In his hands was a walking cane, with the silver head in the shape of a roaring lion. And a face of stone.

"Who are you?" he asked, walking around her, like a man calculating the worth of meat.

"I am Delenn," she replied.

"Wrong answer," he said, "I already know your name. Who are you?"

"Delenn," she repeated, a little confused.

Sebastian raised his walking cane and slammed the tip into the ground. Electricity shot through the manacles and she gasped in the tingling sensation that shot through her wrists. She looked over, and there was no satisfaction in his face. But his eyebrow's furrowed ever so slightly.

"Repeat a wrong answer and you shall be punished," he said, "Who are you?"

"I am the Family Mir," she replied.

"Who are you?"

"I am Satai of the Grey Council."

"Who are you?"

"I am Minbari."

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!"

With each 'wrong' he struck the ground and she gasped as the pain increased ever so slightly. He was walking around her, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Is there nothing of you?" he asked, "Or is the only thing you are is what people give you? You can't even answer a question as simple as this without falling back on genealogies, titles and race. The trappings of power and groupial singularities."

"What do you want?" she asked in growing fear.

The cane struck the ground again and the pain increased and she nearly dropped to her knees. "Never ask that question," he said coldly, "That question is that of the servants of Chaos. The worshippers of Shadows. Do you worship the Shadows?"

"Of course not," she snapped, "How can you ask that?"

"Ah!" he smiled, "We have gotten to something you are not. You are not a Shadow worshipper. Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"I am Delenn!" she shouted, "That's who I am!"

"Wrong!" Sebastian replied, and the pain shot through her wrists again, "Let try this then. Why are you here?"

"Here?" she asked.

"Here and now," he pressed.

"I was summoned," she replied, confused at the question.

Sebastian closed his eyes in annoyance. "You answered the wrong question," he spat, "Why are you here in this life?"

"I was meant to be here," she replied.

"So the Universe placed you here?" he asked, "It has a plan for you?"

"It has a plan for everyone."

"How can you be sure?" he inquired.

"I don't know," she said, "I just am."

"Then you can't be sure."

"I can be sure."

"But you just said you don't know."

"But I believe!" she snapped.

"And that belief makes you right?" he sarcastically asked.

"Yes it does," she defiantly replied.

"And if the world says no?"

"Then it is wrong!"

"But what if the world is right and you are wrong?" he questioned, "Have you ever considered that? Well, have you?"

"Yes," she took a deep breath, "But my faith sustains me. It's in those hours that the faith sustains me. What faith do you have?"

"What?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"People like you only thrive to tell people that they are not worthwhile," she snapped, "Who are you to do such things? By what right? You believe in nothing because nothing believes in you. You've had dreams of greatness, only to find those dreams turned to ash!"

"Am I a destroyer of dreams?" Sebastian asked, a cold fire rising in his eyes, "Or am I a protector of the public good?"

"I might not know who I am," Delenn smiled, "But I know who you are?"

"And what am I?"

"You are nothing."

Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened. "Who are you?" he demanded, "Are you the Chosen One? If you are the Universe will hear you! Cry out. Cry out!"

The handle began to glow with a white fire that grew and raising it up, twisted his hands around it. Delenn arose from the ground, screaming. Lightning wreathed around her.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. And then, after nearly a minute passed, the lightning ceased and she fell to the ground, twitching. And Sebastian tapped nearer and nearer.

"Do you hear anything?" he whispered, "No. A silence as profound as when the whale swallowed Jonah. Who are you?"

"I-I-"

The door hatch flew open and Sheridan stumbled inside, as if a hand had pushed him inside. Sebastian turned to him and smiled. Sheridan looked down at Delenn, twitching on the ground.

"And the third person in our little choir," he smiled, "Who are you?"

"What have you done to her?" Sheridan snarled and began to pull out his PPG.

"I wouldn't," Sebastian smiled, holding up his hand in a cup, "I hold Delenn's heart in my hand. I can feel her heart beating. If I squeeze, like so, I can stop her heart."

As he squeezed his hands ever so slightly, Delenn began gasping for air and coughing. Her hands flew to her chest. Sheridan dropped the PPG and Sebastian opened his hand entirely, and Delenn began to breathe easier.

"Who are you?"

* * *

Sebastian had been a crusader on the holy cause of truth. Corruption had wracked London and he had taken it upon himself to cleanse the world. He had hunted down prostitutes, killing them one by one on the West End. He had been a surgeon that had taken it upon himself to clean the world.

"Leather Apron" and "The Whitechapel Murderer" were two monikers he had been given. But, he would be exalted once London was cleansed. But one night, as he was walking home from the tenth murder, he had been taken by a ball of light. He had been taken by the Vorlons and they had shown him the error in his ways.

And now, in their holy cause, he inflicted torture on those who proclaimed themselves to be holy and in the cause of Order. How many had been defiant like Sheridan and Delenn? How many had fallen before his scythe? Hundreds? Thousands?

He was not just any Vorlon Inquisitor. He was the mightiest of them. He made even the Vorlons pause in fear. All other Inquisitors were subject and nothing to him.

He struck Sheridan on the ground with the power of his staff. Again. And again. And again. He would be broken.

"Stop!" Delenn screamed, dragging herself across the floor, "Your quarrel is with me!"

"You?" Sebastian laughed, "What is he to you?"

"That is none of your concern," she snapped, "Take me, but let him go."

"Are you not chosen?" he asked, looking calmly at her, "Are you not to lead armies to victory? Is not your death to be sung for all to hear? Would you die here, and alone? For one man?"

"One life or a million it does not matter!" she snarled.

"But your holy cause?" he raised an eyebrow.

"This is my cause!" she spat defiantly, "Life! All life is sacred! I would die even for you if I had to!"

Sebastian smiled and with a flick of his fingers her manacles fell. And a small laugh escaped him.

"You pass the test," he said, "The true test is are you willing to die for one another. And you both would. Take solace in this: you are the right people, in the right place, at the right time."

He lifted his hat to them and left, leaving Sheridan and Delenn to painfully pick themselves off the floor.


	27. Excalibur's Holy Blade

**Chapter 26: Excalibur's Holy Blade**

Arthur stood on the veranda looking out upon the Vorlon's capitol city of their homeworld. The city had been christened _Kome'a'loot_ and he wondered if somehow he had been influenced during his life as a human to call his kingdom's greatest stronghold "Camelot" by the Vorlons. Not that he had any illusions that they believed in Christianity. They were for the most part above the need for religion.

There were a few...and the thought made him shudder. No, even in the bright light of the twin suns that shined on the Vorlon Homeworld did one think of that darkness. Yes, the Vorlons brought light and purity, but the dark...was indeed dark.

There was a tapping from behind him, and he turned to see Sebastian strolling out onto the veranda. He was not one given to appreciating the finer things of life. He was too driven for that.

"How was your mission?" he asked.

"Do not pretend with me that you do not know," the Inquisitor replied, resting both hands on the handle of the cane.

"But I want to hear from your mouth," Arthur said, "That for once you could break them. That you found the ones the Vorlons were looking for. An admitance that you will be finally laid to rest."

"No, my lord," Sebastian shook his head, "The Vorlon High Command has informed me that my work is not yet done. The Lords of Order shall have need of me still."

Arthur smirked, running his hand through his sandy brown hair. Indeed it was a gorgeous sight. The flying traffic of Vorlons outside their encounter-suits. Like so many stars in the heaven come down to walk among men. A pity no other humans were hear. They could do good.

"I shall be gone for a while," Sebastian informed him, drawing Arthur from his thoughts, "They believe I need to sleep for a while. A great storm is coming, and they want me to be ready."

"I thought the storm was already upon us," Arthur replied, "At the very gates of the castle."

"I would know nothing of that," Sebastian shrugged, "But the Enemy has been aroused by not only my presence, but by that of Kosh. They will move in force soon. Make sure you are ready for it, my lord."

"I have fought many wars, good Inquisitor," Arthur replied, his hand resting on Excalibur, "I need not you to show me the way."

Sebastian stared at Arthur for a little while, the cold dead eyes showing no emotions. Arthur feared no man. Not even Sebastian, despite his dead heart. Sebastian raised his hat to him, and turning left Arthur King to continue looking upon the city below him.

* * *

Alfred Bester walked into the hospital, Talia behind him. Together they had thrown up a perception of invisibility to all the staff. A few of the more psi-connected did turn as they saw something in the corner of their eyes. But, seeing nothing they'd return to their work.

The request had come from Sheridan himself, and Bester was willing to accommodate him. Sure, he was a mundane, but he had his uses. No use having him a foe when he could be a friend.

"Excuse me?" he asked a rather harried doctor that had no real time to really take a good look at Epsilon's most wanted, "Can you direct me to the room of Commander David Corwin?"

The doctor was looking down at a clipboard, and pointed to the isolation ward. "He's in number 17," he said, "Be careful, he gets violent with new faces."

"Oh..." Bester said with a smile, "We'll be alright."

A page for a doctor came and the doctor swore as he pinned the clipboard against his shoulder with the underside of his arm and Bester looked at Talia and smiled assuredly. She had been sick for some time, but he didn't risk taking her to the doctor. Too many unwanted eyes.

He squeezed her hand and they walked down to the isolation ward. They bypassed a couple security officers that were talking to each other. Everything they said was an exaggeration and Bester couldn't help but grunt. Mundanes needed guidance. One day, he'd give them that guidance.

They arrived at the room and opened it. Stepping inside, they closed the door quietly, and saw Commander Corwin. He was tied in a white straight jacket, growling to himself and letting out animal sounds from his throat. Bester slowly reached out and a scream tore into his mind. The same as a Shadow made.

"You feel it?" Talia asked with a shudder, gripping her husband's arm for support.

"Yeah," he said, and using his mind drove back the shadow influence and pushed it back towards Corwin, "Poor b-d. Whatever the Shadows had in mind for him, this was probably better. Maybe I can clear his mind a bit..."

And with a further push drove the Shadow back to the darkest corner of Corwin's mind. It was still there, but not exerting the control over him. Corwin blinked and looked around, as a man whose been asleep for a long time.

"Where am I?" he asked, blinking, "This isn't my Starfury..."

"No," Bester shook his head, "You're in Epsilon General Medical Center. Isolation Ward."

Corwin blinked. "I could hear screams," he muttered, "I still do. But they're quieter now. What happened? How did I get here? Oh man, did we win?"

"Everything can be answered later," Bester said, moving over to help the man off the bed, "But, we are the rescue rangers and you need to get out of here."

Corwin thought about it a second, then tried to put his hand down on the bed. Then, he noticed the straight-jacket. He frowned as he slid off the bed and stood up, and Bester grabbed him by the arm.

"I must ask you to not talk," Bester said, "I need to concentrate."

"On what?" Corwin asked as he was dragged along to the door.

"I am going to make it so no one sees us, and it's going to be hard enough masking all three of us without having to hold your mind clear of...whatever the Shadows did to you," he said.

"How do you know you can't just let me be?" Corwin asked.

Bester let the control slip ever so slightly and Corwin doubled over, grunting and groaning. Bester pushed deeper again, and Corwin remained bent over, breathing shakily, sweat beading his forehead.

"That's how," Bester said, and together, they left the hospital.


	28. Shattered Dreams

**Chapter 27: Shattered Dreams**

There is something about addiction that is...well, for a lack of a better term, addicting. No one wants to become addicted or obsessed or overly zealous. But, it happens with the simplest things. For the drug addict, it's the first time they grab hold and smoke the drug. For the alcoholic, as soon as they pick up the drink, even if they've been as sober as a judge, they got right back to where they left off. It consumes every waking thought and sensation.

Now, she had never been addicted to anything. She had always had a very strong control over her passions and desires. And zealous never was quiet what she'd ever describe her attitude towards anything. She simply wasn't passionate enough.

But, if there was a word she'd describe it, it was obsessed. Addicted. Drunk.

Every sensation flared in desire to hold him in her arms again. Obsessed she became with the need to feel his body pressed against hers. She was drunk with the want to hear his heartbeat pounding against hers. She wanted to hear his laugh, feel his wavy hair in her fingers, so badly that at nights when she was lying in bed she had to clutch the sides of her mattress and she knew her finger nails had torn the mattress.

All thought of Byron were gone. Oh...she had tried. She had so tried to think of him. But every time she tried to think of him to stay the rampaging lust inside, all she could see was him. She needed him. Only he could slate her desires. She needed him.

She staggered towards his apartment, people trying not to pay attention to this woman who was obviously drunk. She didn't know how she had managed to get as dressed up as she did, for her whole body had been trembling. She got to the door and began pounding on it. When there was no immediate answer, she became frantic, pounding harder and harder on the door.

"Please," she whimpered, "Please. Please. Please. Please."

The lock clicked open and he opened the door. She looked up at him, her eyes begging, her breath stolen away at the sight of him. Gone was the Minbari freak. Now stood the marble man she had loved so well.

"Please," she whispered, "I love you so much it hurts. I need you. I need you. I need you."

And with that Zack Allen pulled her inside, closing the door behind Lyta and holding her tight. He had got what he wanted. Lyta was finally back.

* * *

"We'll take both Babylon 4's," Sinclair said, "I'm sure we can use the firepower of both. You Sheridan will take the older one. I'm taking this one."

"Alright," Sheridan nodded, "I'll head off today. Get there to Kah'Markab and secure the system. You follow tomorrow. I'll take Delenn and Franklin on the Minbari one. You get Michael."

"Fine by me," Sinclair replied, "We'll get-"

An explosion shook the station. "Captain Sinclair!" a voice shouted over the intercom, "We've got Remnant transports heading our way!"

"I think our time just run out," Sinclair muttered, "Get out of here Sheridan, and get the other Babylon 4 out of here. I'll hold them off."

"Right," Sheridan said, standing up and running off.

* * *

"Squadron leader to Omega Squadron," a pilot with black visor shouted into his squadron channel, "We are going in. Keep tight. This is going to get rough."

Almost as if in response, the stations defense grid activated and began filling the sky with fire.

* * *

"Let's go!" Takashima shouted, holding up her hand and hustling GROPOS onto a breech pod, "We've got to be out in ten mics!"

"Belay that order!" a voice shouted, and she turned to see Colonel Ben Zayne marching across the room, "No one is going anywhere."

"Colonel!" she reminded him, "Orders have just come in from New Geneva. Clark has given the orders. We are going to his Babylon 4 and take out the traitors."

"Clark is a fool," Ben Zayne said dismissively, "Every man and woman on that station is just as loyal to Humanity as we are. It's Clark that's the traitor."

"You've got no proof!" Takashima retorted. She wanted to agree with him. But the Keeper was exerting complete control.

"Oh yeah?" Ben Zayne asked, and pushing a button on his link said, "Play the message."

* * *

"Good morning humanity," Alfred Bester said, standing by Brother Theo at a communications terminal that somehow they had hijacked into the main broadcasting system of the Remnant, "You may know me. I am Alfred Bester. The government has wanted me dead for a long time. Why? Because I can get the truth. I can uncover their lies.

"They say the Minbari have to be exterminated. Would we be any better than them if we did?

"They say Sheridan and those with him are all traitors. If they were traitors, why haven't they been committing acts of terror against us? They have our most powerful station in their command, but they do nothing against us. No hostile acts. Is this the work of traitors?

"Here you will see images of Nightwatch and Home Guard as they kidnap the innocent. Remember Senator Hidoshi? He was pretty prominent as a voice for the Right Wing. Here we show you evidence as men strangle him to death. We see people jumped at night and taken away, never to be heard from loved ones again.

"They call me a monster. Have any of you been able to sleep without a chill running up your spine? Haven't our so called allies brought nothing but fear? Yes, we have had a moment of salvation, but we are plunged into a crusade to murder those who fight because of a misunderstanding.

"They say that President Luchenko took her own life. But I show you proof to the contrary, taken from a man who saw it happen. I call to you, rally against Clark and depose him. Put someone in charge who will lead us towards glory and not just a glorious death."

* * *

The voice of Alfred Bester kept running through the comm-channel, and Ben Zayne and Takashima stared at each other. Takashima noticed many of the men looking unsure. They were being convinced of something. And the keeper would not have it.

"You will not stop us!" she said, holding a PPG towards Ben Zayne, "Guards! Relieve Colonel Ben Zayne from duty!"

"You will not touch me!" Ben Zayne shouted, and he opened his mouth and a white light burst from there. His eyes turned white. Power was wrapped around him, his body illuminating. "What are you insects compared to the glory of the Vorlons? You ally with Shadows and there are those who would save you," Ben Zayne was lifted above the ground, his voice speaking as a thundering of pure energy, "And would you slay your saviors? You shall not leave this place!"

"Shoot him!" she shouted, but no one would fire. They were enraptured by the Colonel's glory. No...not the Colonel. But the Vorlon that occupied his body.

She raised up her PPG and fired, hitting the body of the Colonel again and again, until the Vorlon threw itself out so fiercely that Ben Zayne's mouth shattered in an explosion of red and purple. The Keeper hissed as the Vorlon threw itself at her, energy tentacles sparking in the air. It slammed hard into Takashima and threw her hard backwards, throwing her against the breeching pod. The Keeper screamed, and it's death throws it began to strangle Takashima, making her hand jerk and fire randomly, hitting GROPOS all around. And then, with a hiss it died, giving her complete control back to her.

She was stunned but not enough not to notice that the remaining GROPOS were figuring out to shoot her. She stood up and fled, blood pouring from her, running towards a Starfury that was docked in COBRA bays not too far away, PPG blasts beginning to fly at her.

* * *

"We are getting out of here," Sheridan said, grabbing Delenn by the hand, "We are heading to your precious Zha'Valen-"

"Zha'Valen'Venni," she offered.

"Right," Sheridan turned looking for Lennier, "Lennier?"

He stepped from around a corner and bowed. "Take Delenn to dockingbay 5. I'll be there as soon as possible."

* * *

"We've got breech-pods incoming," Naomi shouted from her console, "At least five."

"We will give them a fight worthy of a few medals," Sinclair snarled, "Focus your fire on the breech pods."

"We are being hailed by a Starfury coming in," the communications officer reported.

"What do they want?" he asked watching a starfury go up in flames.

"The pilot claims to be Commander Takashima from Babylon 5," the officer reported, "Asking to join us here."

"Good," he smiled, "At least one good thing to come out from this."

* * *

Draal felt the conflict above and felt the time was right.

"Abel!" he called out, and the human moved into the control room, "Tell the Zathras brothers that I need them to keep an eye on things."

"Why?" he asked.

"I have to open a temporal rift around _Babylon 4_."

* * *

"We are being swarmed with Starfurys!" Naomi cursed, "and we are having two cruisers coming from Epsilon 2."

"D-n," Sinclair hissed, "That's not good-"

"They are hailing us," the communications officer reported.

"Put them on," Sinclair sighed and the gruff face of Captain Jack Maynard appeared.

"You need some help?" he asked.

"Help?" Sinclair tried to suppress the ray of hope.

"My ship the _Bel'reen_ and Captain Morgernstern of the _Lexington_ have decided that we won't be cowed by Clark," he reported, "And we wish to lend our assistance."

"Take up flanking positions on either side of the station, Captain," Sinclair smiled, "And thanks."

"Maynard out."

* * *

"Call of the attack, President Clark," Mr. Morden said, pushing aside the guards as he burst into his office.

"I've waited a long time to strike at the rebels on _Babylon 4_," Clark shook his head, "And I won't wait any longer."

"You are a fool," Morden snapped, "Your military is splintering. There is rioting all over the Epsilon system. If you had waited, like we told you to, when the announcement was made, you would not have this."

Clark stood up in his chair and slammed a fist on his desk. "I rule here," Clark growled, glaring at the smug little man, "Not you."

Morden smiled slightly and with a wave of his hand in stepped General Hague. "General," he said, "Please be so good as to call off the attack on _Babylon 4_."

"Yes sir," he said, pushing his comlink, "All forces pull back. Stop the attack on _Babylon 4_."

Clark's eyes glared, the betrayal nearly toppling him. "Ryan!" he shouted, "What's gotten into you? I am the President of the Human Remnant. And I give you an order to resume the attack."

"You just don't get it do you?" Morden shook his head with a false sadness, "I had many key members of the military installed with Keepers. They will do what _I_ say."

Clarks mouth opened and closed, open and closed like a fish breathing in water. No, this was an outrage! He controlled the destiny of humanity, not these aliens! How dare they!

"You can't do this to me!" Clark snapped, "We had an agreement!"

"The agreement was between me and Sheridan, Mr. President," Morden reminded him, "Not between me and you. Oh, don't worry, we were going to send agents onto Babylon 4 at any rate. You, however have forced out hand."

* * *

The records of the Battle of Babylon 4 are confused. Partly because so many of the records were lost in the following months or were incomplete at the time. It is also no help that few of the main characters involved ever really talked about what happened during this time and focused more of the escape of _Zha'Valen'Venni_ and the Remnant Civil War that started because of this battle.

It is clear that the defection of the _Bel'reen_ and the _Lexington_ did add much firepower to the twin _Babylon 4_ stations, and in an attempt to cow them _Zha'Valen'Venni_ slipped out of the invisibility pocket and made itself visible for the first time. But, when all was said and done, why did the Remnant Forces fall back? Why didn't they finish the job? They outnumbered the enemy and even without Shadow aid could have destroyed all the rebels at once.

We do know the Shadows started to infiltrate the station at that point, and the killing began. But, they were barely on the station when Sinclair ordered the evacuation. Some point to a previous knowledge of what would happen next, and he wanted as little humans on board when he traveled back in time. But, what is unquestionable among historians is that this battle is among the more confusing.

Remnant forces attack, and then suddenly get called off despite being superior. Babylon 5 troops who were ready to blaze out against _Babylon 4_, suddenly began to turn upon their commanding officers. Babylon 4 is evacuated right after the Remnant falls back but right as Shadows begin entering the station.


	29. Returning to the Temporal Rift

**Chapter 28: Returning to the Temporal Rift**

-The time has come.- Kosh's voice whispered in his mind. -Time to return to the beginning.-

"This is Captain Sinclair," he said through an open channel throughout the station, "Abandon ship. All personnel shall immediately report to shuttles and head to the other station that's just appeared."

The CIC crew looked over at him, frowning at the orders. Hadn't they turned back the Remnant soldiers? Why were they abandoning the station? The sensors were clear.

"That means all of you," he shouted, and they hurried to the doors to leave.

"Zathras!" he called through his link.

"Zathras here," he wasn't sure which one was addressing him, "Temporal flashes are not as stable as should be."

"Forget about that," he retorted, "I need you to go to Sector Blue-14. There you'll see me. Only, he won't be me. I need you to get him off the station. Understand?"

"Zathras understands..." then after a slight pause, "No Zathras does not understand. But Zathras do. We must get off the station."

"Alright," he nodded, and outside he saw a massive ship wrinkle into normal space, like a massive spider. "Garibaldi, I need you and Takashima to gather a few Security. We are about to get visitors."

He turned to leave when a particularly fierce time-flash hit him.

He stood on the top of a mountain, kneeling, weeping. Who knew what it was he wept for. He certainly didn't. But something had happened. Something bad. A shadow feel over him, and he looked up. Even in the bright sunlight, he could feel a heavy weight falling upon him as he prepared to do what needed to be done.

"Ah," he said, in a voice not English, but he understood what he was saying all the same, "Have you come to betray me?"

* * *

Lennier clambered onboard the shuttle. The fuels of the shuttle had been empty, so he had been forced to refill the ship. Now, he was sitting down, Delenn already sitting.

"It's about to get-"

Time flash. He stood somewhere, in the throne room of Centauri Prime he believed. His denn'bok was bloody, blood splattered all over the room. A Narn and the Centauri Emperor lay there, hands clenched around each other's throats. And he stood over John Sheridan, blood covering him.

He looked down, feeling a sense of self-loathing as he looked down upon the man. He had to do it, although he didn't want to. He looked up, his eyes pleading.

"Lennier-" he whispered, "Lennier-"

Lennier raised the deen'bok high in the air and screaming a sound swung as hard as he could downwards.

* * *

Zathras bustled about. The temporal rift was opening, just like it was supposed to happen. But, no one would believe Zathras. Had he not tried to warn them? But...no. No one believes poor Zathras. He rounded a corner, and spotted the One. But wait...he looked confused. And much younger. He stood staring as he was lost in a time flash.

The temporal flash was over and he collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Zathras moved forward.

"You must be getting up," he said, and reaching out with his two cloth-gloved hands grabbed the One who was obviously confused and pulled him up off the ground, "You cannot be being here. The One said this place for big war. We follow the one. But, no one from this time can be with us. Or else, they die. Zathras warned this might happen. Time flashes not so stable as should be. But no one ever listens to poor Zathras."

He carried him along, jabbering about anything and everything. He had to get him to the shuttle bay. No, not the other ones. He mustn't get glimpse of the future. They were reaching a juncture when they ran into it.

* * *

There was a shattering of sound, and PPG fire began filling the corridor. There were screams from Shadows chased them down the corridor. Sinclair was in the lead, his long legs carrying his in front. He turned around and fired a blast but kept running, making sure that Catharine was still close behind. Garibaldi also followed, reaching backwards and firing. Laura also came, a couple feet behind the other, blood still streaming from her wound. GROPOS followed close behind, but one collapsed and screamed as a Shadow caught him and slashed down, ripping through his back and pinning him to the ground.

They passed by a juncture, heading for the dockbay. Garibaldi screamed in defiance and turned to look and frowned. What was that? Sinclair? But wait...wasn't he... Oh, what the h-l. He completed his turn and fired again. Just then the other Zathras jumped down from the ceiling and followed after them, holding a circular device.

* * *

"What's that?" younger Sinclair asked, blinking as he stared off.

"Uhhhh..." Zathras shrugged, not sure how to explain it, then decided upon, "Do not know...cannot tell...perhaps one day Zathras knows. But until that day, Zathras carry you to shuttle."

* * *

Julia Musante ran towards the shuttlebay, hoping to catch a ride with John Sheridan. A voice screamed in her mind to catch him, keep him from leaving. She had to complete the mission. She had to! Or else the Keeper would punish her.

And out from the corner glided Kosh, his eye-stalk blazing. She couldn't see for the brilliance of the light that seemed to sear into her. She raised a hand to block the light.

-You shall not leave.- Kosh said, his voice sounding like the crashing of waves on the shoreline.

"I am a part of this crew," she said angry, "I will not stay here."

-Not you.- he said, swerving his stalk to stare at her shoulder. -It.-

_You will not stop us Vorlon. Our Masters want the Starkiller._

-He is not for you.- Kosh retorted.

_Then who is he then?_

-He is ours.-

_You will not stop us!_

Kosh's eyestalk blazed white hot and shot forth, hitting her shoulder and slamming her into a wall. She wasn't sure who was screaming louder, her Keeper or herself. The pain seared her but her shoulder began to feel like it was on fire. The Keeper struggled to get free, but it was paralyzed and with a sound like a thunderclap, it exploded.

She slid down to the floor, her legs unable to support her. She looked up at Kosh, whose eyestalk was returning to normal. For once in months, she no longer felt the oppressive commands of the Keeper in her mind. She was free, and her desire for Sheridan slackened to what they would normally be.

"Why?" she asked, her voice shaking.

-You have other uses.- Kosh said.

"Makes me sound like a tool," she muttered.

-Good.-

* * *

"I think we lost them," Takashima said, shuddering from the exertion of running so long.

"You have to leave," Sinclair said, standing at the shuttlebay doors, "I'm staying here."

"No way," Garibaldi objected, sweating profusely, "We're all going together."

"I can't," Sinclair shook his head, "You all have to leave. Me, I have to take this station back in time."

"What are you talking about?" Takashima asked.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed, "You can't leave me here."

"You now listen to Zathras," Zathras said, finally having caught up with them, "Zathras is Valen. He will go back in time to win big war."

"No," Catherine shook her head, "You won't go alone."

"There is only time stabilizing devices for Valen and Zathras," he shook his head, "Not for anyone else."

"But-" Catherine protested but Sinclair rested his hand on her shoulder.

"I have to do this," he said, "I have done it before. And I will do it again. I have always done it. If I don't go, then the whole history as we know it changes, and things will be much worse. This is our chance to save history."

Garibaldi stared at him, then nodded slowly. "Alright," he said, reaching out a hand and grabbing Sinclair's hand tightly, "You gota do what you gota do."

Sinclair nodded as his old friend stepped away. Takashima went in for a hug, grabbing him tightly.

"I-" she started, tears filling her eyes.

"I know," he said gently, "There's nothing you need to say."

She backed up and walked off, the GROPOS following her in. And Catherine and Sinclair shared one last goodbye and kiss. But, she was just about to pull back when she started, and he looked down to see a shimmering claw sticking out of her. The others looked at him in shock as he dragged Catherine's dying body, running for it.

"Go!" Sinclair shouted, "Or none of you will make it! Go!"

"You heard the man!" Garibaldi shouted, "Let's go!"

And with that, they flew out of the shuttle bay, joining the last shuttles that entered _Zha'Valen'Venni_ before it took off, fleeing Epsilon 3 with the escorting ships.

* * *

The temporal rift was open, and with a push of the button, Babylon 4 began to lurch forward, driving itself towards the rift. He had locked the door, laying Catherine's dead body onto the floor behind him. But, he knew even as they proceeded to go into the past, that what he was doing was right. He felt the changes coming through the rift and he looked down to see Catherin's body disappear. Maybe he'd see her one day.

He stepped towards the chrysalis chamber that Zathras had brought up for him. He opened it and stepped inside, letting it close around him.

"I am like an arrow that has sprung from the bow," he heard Valen's voice, "No doubt, never changing in its course."

"Will I see her?" he asked hoping that Valen would answer.

"Perhaps," Valen said, "One can only hope."

"But it will be enough."

* * *

Rashok and Nukeen stepped onto the great station. They limped from wounds, almost uncountable with how many there were. But, they were firm and strong, and had thier pistol pulled out. Strange alien markings. Strange alien boxes. What was this place? And why had they been drawn towards it.

They started as they saw a strange alien creature come out towards them, clicking as he came.

"Good, good," he said, "You are expected. This way."

He motioned them to come forward, but they glanced at each other. What a strange little alien.

"Come," Zathras said, "Come."

They followed him into a great room, and there stood a Minbari, his robes showing no clan or fein. He stood there, flanked on either side by Vorlons in all thier glory.

"Welcome," the man said, holding his arms out, "I welcome you to this place and present as a gift unto you. I am called Valen, and we have much work ahead of us."


	30. Voice of the WarMaster

**Chapter 29: The Voice of the WarMaster**

The revelations of late had hit G'Kar hard, and as he sat on the bridge of the _G'Quan Incarnate_, reading reports from the frontlines, he realized that things were progressing slowly. The Centauri were amassing a vast fleet, and he was concerned, especially since both Lord-General Marrago and Lord-Admiral Dormo were at the heads of the fleet. It had only been by luck he had escaped relatively intact, fighting mainly imbeciles and lay-abouts.

But these two...no, they were men of a different sort. While on Earth he had once heard a fascinating story of one of their greatest Emperors. The man had been named Napoleon Bonaparte and he had lived during Earth's Imperial Age, before the unification. He had conquered roughly a fifth of the planet and won almost every engagement he had ever fought in. He had finally been beaten by a man named the Duke of Wellington. Wellington had once said of Napoleon, 'His hat is worth 40,000 muskets.' And if the analogy was akin to swords, then that meant Napoleon had been worth over forty-thousand men. His praise indeed.

His campaign was being bogged down on the world of Golus III. G'Kar had hoped that the arrival of Narn warships would have turned them to his side, but, he had been wrong. The Golan system was a fierce system, and Golus III was a heavily jungled world. His soldiers had no experience in the type of warfare they were being forced to fight in.

The reports he had heard back were frightening. Warriors would be walking then the ground would give way and they would fall on spikes implanted on the ground. Limbs would come crashing down on them, daggers tied to the branches. Narns would awake to find comrades hanging from trees nearby their bases who had just the night before taken said goodnight to them. But Golus III was important. If it fell, then they'd be able to attack Tolonuis VII and it's heavy industries without having to fear an attack from the rear. G'Kar had planned the campaign too perfectly to allow for slipups.

But this fleet. What if it didn't attack Narn but came crashing down upon him? His forces were all but stretched thin. The promised reinforcements were slow...ever so slow in arriving. Why? From what he had learned from sources back home recruits were joining by the thousands each day as they got closer to Centauri Prime. Why were the holding back on him?

"WarMaster G'Kar," the communications officer turned to him, "You are getting a transmission from homeworld."

"Put it on visual," he ordered and the Narn pressed a button to transfer it to the main viewer.

"Councilor Ko D'Ath," he said, trying not to spit in disgust, "I thought my former aide wouldn't call me."

"You think so little of me G'Kar?" she asked, "Give me so credit."

"I did and then you spent it all," he muttered, "So what do I owe the honor of this call?"

Ko D'Ath glared at him. He wasn't sure why. He was only congenial and all that.

"I am calling to say we are sending you my replacement," she said, "A female by the name of Na'Toth. She shall be there by the end of the week."

"And what about sending me a few of those troops you are holding back?" he asked with a sarcastic air, "And don't you lie Ko D'Ath. You told me that the Kha'Ri had at least five G'Quan Heavy Cruisers that have been built. Why haven't I seen any of them?"

"If we are right and the Centauri do attack us," she reminded him, "their route shall take them to Sigma 957. We plan to ambush them."

"And what if they decide to attack me instead?" he retorted, "You owe me Ko D'Ath. I'm not telling you to send me everything. Even one or two..."

"The Kha'Ri has decided," she snapped, "That is all."

And with that the screen turned off. He barked a cry at the screen and slammed his fists on the side of his chair, making the two bridge crew glance back at him. No, he needed to keep calm. Keep cool.

"Lousy politicians," he muttered, "Know nothing of war besides what they fantasize about."

* * *

"I don't trust the Selvan," Dormo said, walking beside Marrago as they walked towards the bridge of the Primus-Class Cruiser _Ignorfin_, "Especially since the Prime Minister can't even confirm what they talked about."

"The Emperor's word is law," Marrago said without showing any sign of his internal dislike, "And he wants this fleet to attack Narn. So, we shall attack Narn. And Sigma 957 is the best way to strike, since they avoid the system."

"And with good reason," Dormo replied, "No, I think we should make some last minute changes. The fleet leaves in two days."

Marrago opened the door to his private quarters and stepped inside. Marrago pulled out a scanning device and with a quick flick ensured that there was no listening devices. Well, there was one. He approached it, and reaching under his high back chaired pulled it out and spoke into it.

"Oops, I must have dropped it," he spoke loudly into it and with that he tossed it into a large jug of water, hearing with satisfaction a pop as it short-circuited. He didn't envy the soldier wearing the earpieces listening in. He would have been hit with a massive explosion of crackling noises in his ear.

"I agree Lord-Admiral," he said, gesturing to the other chair, "But, Sigma 957 is the best way to go if we want to attack Narn and bypass the enemy fleet."

"There is another way," Dormo spoke, "An ancient way."

"No," Marrago shook his head, "I will not hear of it. You might not believe in the old stories but I do."

"What is to be afraid of there?" Dormo demanded.

"It's Za'Ha'Dum!" Marrago threw up his hands, "Homeworld of the Ancient Enemy. So are asking for trouble by going that way."

"And if we don't we surely will fall into a trap," Dormo retorted, "You know that there are ancient beings that roam through Sigma 957. Draining the power from any ship that passes nearby. No, we will not go that way."

"Then let us crush G'Kar now!" Marrago said, slamming a fist into his other hand, "This is the mightiest fleet assembled since the Third Dynasty War. Let us use our weight to crush G'Kar! Overwhelm him while we can. We destroy him at Golus III where he is bogged down, and we will have broken the main of their forces here. Let us take the war to the enemy here!"

Dormo let his tiredness show. He never would have, but Dormo of House Gildor knew the men that he could trust. And Jonas Marrago was one of the few he could let his guard down. But, it was only a second.

"How familiar are you with Humanity's Military History?" Dormo asked.

"I don't care much for it," he replied, "Especially since our alliance with them is now gone."

"During a war during their Imperial Age," Dormo explained, "There was a civil war on one of their continents. During this war, it became very brutal and nearing the end, there was a general who had a plan to end the war. Basically, as he took the largest army and hammered the rebels main army, a smaller army was sent down and landed near the enemy capitol. From there, if fast enough they could capture the rebel capitol and end the war within a few weeks. It failed, but in the end he won the war. We shall call this "Operation: Earth Civil War". I want you to take sixty ships and hit G'Kar. I will take the Za'Ha'Dum route and hit at Narn. As the Earthers would say, 'let us eat our cake and have it'."

"Strange phrase," Marrago muttered, "Not even correct."

"A strange phrase for a strange people," Dormo agreed.

"And the Selvan?" Marrago asked.

"Let them go to Sigma 957 and be swatted by the Aliens there," Dormo snorted, I care not."


	31. From the Seeds of the Past

**Chapter 30: From the Seeds of the Past**

Roughly three days passed in hyperspace as they transverse the ebbs and flows of that mysterious realm. Sheridan and his senior staff didn't have time to concentrate on what had happened above Epsilon 3. No, they were too busy preparing for their arrival at the dead Markab system. Even Garibaldi and Takashima, despite losing a close friend and commander, kept themselves occupied. There'd be time for grief later.

Even Zathras, despite losing his brother to the past, was cheerful...to an extent. Sheridan had asked Zathras how he felt about what had happened. And a strange wisdom came from the small creature.

"What is life without loss?" Zathras had said, "Zathras old enough to know this. Loss makes Zathras stronger. Loss makes everyone stronger."

But, the entire time they traveled, Sheridan had an odd feeling someone was watching him and when he'd turn around, he'd see nothing in the mass of sentient beings. Sometimes he'd be writing out reports and he'd spot something out of the corner of his eye. But a quick glance would show him nothing.

But, he was more interested to see how the humans would work with Minbari. There was quite a bit of friction, but seeing as it hadn't erupted in actual fistfights, he felt they won at least a small victory there. He had been walking with Brimarri one day and he had asked him:

"So why did you join the Rangers? Was it a choice or an familial obligation?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I have talked in length with Ranger Lennier about Minbari society and he says that clans and family have a great influence on the decisions of individual Minbari."

"You are correct, it does play a role in what we do."

"So was that why you decided to jump on the bandwagon?"

"'Bandwagon'?"

"Basically why'd you jump in bed with the Rangers...or do you prefer the term Anla'Shok?"

"Whatever you find most convenient."

"So why you join the Rangers?"

"It was actually against the will of my family. My father was against the idea of the Rangers. He told me, 'Brimarri, if the Shadows really were to come again, do you really think a band of priestlings playing at soldiers would do anything about it?' But, during the war...the holy war against the humans I did some...terrible things."

"We all did things we weren't proud of."

"I was stationed on one of our cruisers during the Battle of the Line. After Earth fell, I was assigned in what you would call a bloodhound unit. I hunted down humans. I was assigned the greater of the land masses. I was efficient. Brutal. Even after our war ended we weren't disbanded and I hunted you down. In government buildings, hospitals, meeting places, homes. I once participated in the cleansing of an orphanage. I...killed children that weren't old enough to speak. But, one day, I was assigned with two other to attack a religious building that looked like a massive castle. We entered and slaughtered them all. I remember their cries to their Gods to save them. I approached a woman, an elderly woman, and she was on her knees. As I raised my denn'bok to kill, I saw the look in her eyes.

"There was no hatred, Starkiller. Only a deep sadness. Because she knew that I had become damned. You want to know why I'm here? I am here to find some atonement of the blood on my hands. I nearly committed suicide because of what I've done. But no, I know that perhaps they might understand, even if they never forgive me."

Sheridan was alone the first night they arrived, Franklin helping Delenn assist in the preparation of what was to come. He knew this system better than anyone else on the command staff. He sat, the face of his dead wife filling his vision. Was there no peace?

His door slid open and he remained looking down, assuming Lennier had left.

-Sheridan.-

He started and looked up to see Kosh. Standing there like a God of sorts. Or a harbinger of death.

"You've been making yourself scarce," he muttered, "Did you really think you'd escape my notice after everything you put me and Delenn through at the hands of the Inquisitor?"

-It is time.- Kosh said.

"For what?" Sheridan asked.

-To learn.-

"What-" Sheridan started, but Kosh's eyestalk opened up and engulfed him in a wave of green light.

He saw the beginning of the universe, feeling an explosion of life. But, in the explosion was a thought, a whisper from some ancient being of immeasurable power. He saw a race of immortals come into being on a planet at the very center of the Galaxy and begin to spread forth. These were the First Ones. They were the oldest of races, born before all others.

Then, two races came into being. One that became obsessed with death, for they saw all things die and for centuries pursued ways of keeping the souls of anything that died. These were the Shag Toth, or in the better known name, the Soul Hunters.

The other race became obsessed with chaos, believing that life is meant to be a challenge. But they became corrupted and began enforcing this chaos upon all others. These were the beginnings of the Shadows, and as the First Ones went away, they took residency upon the First Ones homeworld, a planet that had long since died.

Others rose and millennia passed where the endured the torment of the Shadows and Soul Hunters. Until they became strong enough. And then these, whom were also called the First Ones, rose to fight them, and across the stars war raged, a war so bitter that the amino acids of a thousand worlds was impressed with the memory of it. The Great War as it was called ended over a million years ago, and between that time, most of the firsts ones went away. A few remained, but only one became interested in the affairs of others.

Great empire that had ruled millions were now collapsed. Noble kings had been laid low. Planets that had not sides with the Shadows were erased with great weapons, even if they took none up against them. He saw famines and drought strike entire worlds until their deaths.

The Vorlons they were called, and roughly six hundred thousand years ago, they evolved to the shedding of their physical forms. They became the guardians of the Younger Races. A thousand years ago the Shadows stirred again and could have won their war if they hadn't blundered. They moved too swiftly and despite swaying most of the Younger Races, couldn't convince them all, and thus were defeated in the end.

But roughly five years after the Earth-Minbari War ended, the Shadows began to move again. They seduced many to their will and their power is strong. They are supplanting governments with their own. And on the dead world of Za'ha'dum, they await the signal to start their war in earnest.

The vision left and Sheridan swayed as he sat, unsure of what had happened. But, it made so much more sense. He understood now the risks the Shadows pose.

"I want to fight them," he said, slowly standing, "I will go to Za'Ha'Dum and defeat the Shadows personally."

-If you go to Za'Ha'Dum- Kosh said, his voice a warning, calm and serious, -You will die.-

"If that is the price that must be paid," he nodded slowly, "I will take it."

-You have grown.- Kosh said with a hint of approval.

"Grown?" Sheridan didn't understand, "What are you talking about?"

-From the angry selfish child to the man.- Kosh said and Sheridan suddenly understood.

"That was you talking to me on the Minbari cruiser?" he asked. When Kosh inclined his head, he pressed, "How?"

-Your mind was quiet. You could hear the song.-

He didn't know what to say to that. "Will you be there with me?" he asked, suddenly filling a little apprehension of what he had agreed to, "Will go be there at Za'Ha'Dum with me?"

-I shall go with you.- Kosh said slowly. -After.-

"After what?"

-You learn to fight legends.-


	32. The Quiet Before the Storm

**Chapter 31: The Quiet Before the Storm**

By August of 2260, the galaxy was roaring under wars blaze. It becomes a quagmire in multiple wars and skirmishes fought across the landscape of a dozen races. And that's only what one knows about. So, the best way to figure out this dramatic month is to take a look at the equally critical but quieter month of July.

The Human Remnant task forces sent to defeat the Minbari had by some trick of fate ended up allying with Minbari in an attempt to overthrow the current leader of Minbari. Kalain was seen less and less by his people, always in councils. None, not even his faithful Shakiri had any idea what these meetings were about. Beyond the fact that Kalain considered them important and only a worm of a man named Foreil was ever allowed into these secret councils. He was Religious Caste that had sworn himself to Kalain's side. Each day he left the Council, he seemed to be less and less of a man.

Marrain had gathered a numerous army to his banner and during this month planned the battle that he hoped would smoke Kalain out into an open battle. There he would be able to crush Kalain and his forces. The eventually settled upon attacking the Minbari shipyards of Tammerlain, one of only two shipyards that made the much needed fliers for Minbari pilots. It would be until August before they could launch this attack.

Meanwhile, rioting had swept through Epsilon Eridani after the leak of Clark's involvement in Luchenko's death. Despite his reassurance to the contrary, it only inflamed the people more. Finally, he was forced to declare martial-law on the entire Epsilon Eridani system. This lead to numerous defections in the ranks of humanity that either fought hopeless battles or fled to join Sheridan and his troops.

As these two events were running concurrently, G'Kar received his new aide, but watched as the Centauri fleet continued it's buildup. And his forces continued being bogged down in their savage warfare on Golus III. But they all knew it was only a matter of time before the war came to its head. On both sides, those with the intuition could feel for better or worse, the war was drawing to a finale.

Vir Cotto and his Conspiracy of Light was being run aground in Minbari territories. The deadly guards of Kalain were none other than Kilgrain assassins. They had long learned the traits of counterinsurgency and the ways of cloak and dagger. Very soon, Vir was afraid he'd lose his eyes in Minbari territory. But, he was blessed by his association with Malachi and Mollari, who provided him a greater view of Centauri space than he'd ever thought imaginable, but what he saw concerned him deeply.

Cartagia was slowly slipping into an insanity of which terrified everyone in the Palace. Ministers opposed to him started to disappear, one at a time. Cartagia was seen many times talking to someone that was there, and if he caught himself being watched, he'd immediately murder the person.

Vorlons and Shadows were as quiet as the grave. And when they go to ground, one knew something big was coming.

But, as for Sheridan and his crew...well, that is noteworthy. It was during this month that Sheridan began making his summons to the other races of the Galaxy. The Narns, the Centauri, the Abbai, the Drazi, the Vree, the Brakiri, to name just a few. The message was a simple. "Come to _Zha'Valen'Venni_."


	33. The Alliance of Sheridan

**Chapter 32: The Alliance of Sheridan**

General Kulomani stepped off the transport and looked around him, two Brakiri guard behind him. The summons had come, and while most of the government of Brakir didn't care, Kulomani felt himself drawn towards this station and had obtained permission from the Krona, also known as the Council of 500 to attend. Brakiri were interested more in their profit gains then the affairs of others, but this might be worth the time and money to go do so. That's how he'd convinced them to allow him to come.

"Welcome to _Zha'Valen'Venni_," a Ranger said, walking up to him and bowing low, "You have arrived just in time. The meeting is about to convene."

Kulomani held his hand out. "Lead the way," he said.

* * *

Marcus opened his eyes, feeling the pain in them. He felt like he'd slept for a week or more. He was a little tender still, but considering the pounding he'd taken recently, he'd take a little sore. Slowly he pushed himself higher up in the bed, and a healer walked into the room.

"Entil'zha," she said formally, "Good to see you are awake. How are you feeling?"

"More or less in one piece," he replied, his mouth extremely dry, "Can I have some water?"

The healer had already been anticipating seemingly, as she handed him a short fat cup of water. He lifted it slowly, his hands trembling from lack of use. The water felt good as it sloshed though his mouth.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We are in the Markab system," she said, "But I'll let your friend explain it more fully."

"Friend?" he asked, and Stephan Franklin walked in, his face drawn and troubled. Marcus slumped back in the mattress and muttered, "Oh Stephan. I'm so sorry."

* * *

They soon arrived at a room, and Kulomani walked in and made his way to where a Narn and a Drazi were sitting, a chair in middle of them. He pulled the chair back and sat, placing himself in a comfortable position.

"I am Daro of Drazi Freehold," the Drazi announced himself.

"Kulomani of the Brakiri Syndicate," he returned the favor.

"Na'Tok of the Narns," the Narn turned to them, "Is it not better to know potential allies than to not know them."

"And also potential enemies?" Kulomani offered, "A wise precaution."

At the head of the table was a human, who Kulomani expected to be the Starkiller. His name was held in reverence by many of the factions gathered here. A symbol that no enemy was unbeatable. Behind him was a Vorlon.

Sheridan stood slowly. "If we can get this meeting started," he said, "I welcome you all. I know some of you are enemies now but I bring you together for a common goal. Protection against a great evil. They are known as the Shadows."

"Are not these Shadows your allies?" the Abbai General asked, frowning.

"It was an unfortunate mistake," Sheridan acknowledged.

"But they helped you defeat our forces," a Minbari in the back said, "How is that unfortunate for you?"

"The Devil helps those that he wishes to seduce," Sheridan quipped, "but will toss aside those when they no longer amuse him. The Shadows will destroy Humanity if they get a chance, and they shall do it more effectively than even you could, Alyt Neroon."

"Then I see no problem," he snorted and many fo the others muttered in shared agreement.

"Let the man speak," Kulomani said, raising his voice so all would be forced to listen, "Is that not why we are here? Let him speak his peace and not interrupt him."

And Sheridan spent the next hour explaining the Shadows, who they were and what they would cause. One by one he made those who were interested even more fully and those who did not believe him begin to question their own beliefs. He spoke of dark armies and dead worlds. He spoke of terrors and wonders. And they all listened.

Finally, he wound down to an end and looked at them. "We few here could fight them," he said, "But we cannot defeat them. We need help in this war. I know they have been playing ever side against the middle, which is why I've asked those, even in conflict to come and join me in this cause. We need to build an alliance that will be strong enough to withstand the wiles of the enemy.

"Yes, the enemy is strong. Yes, they are ancient. Yes, they are more advanced. The odds would seem hopeless." He glanced over at Neroon. "But I for a fact know that no enemy is invincible. No matter what the odds, they can be beaten. These Shadows are tempting, it's true. But they don't want you to be strong. They don't value you one above the other.

"They ask what do you want. They only want slaves to Chaos, and they know your answers will lead to it. But don't let it happen. Join me in the fight. What say you? Will you join me?"

The group sat silent. All were thinking to themselves. What would it be? Each thought to themselves, was this a chance they wanted to take? Many of them had had dealing with the Shadows and seen the results backfire.

Such moments it takes one man to do what is right. And that man stood. He looked around and could feel them ready to join. He was an honest man, and he knew he needed to do this.

"I must talk to my government to ask their official opinion," he said, "But I for one will join you. No matter the political consequences to myself. I pledge this Sheridan."

And with that, Kulomani turned and headed for the door and the first open commchannel to Brakiri space.

* * *

If one thing could be said about Zack Allen, he never took advantage. This was not his biased opinion, but the truth. Weeks had passed since he'd finally gotten Lyta back and here he was, on his couch, Lyta asleep and snuggled against him, and his arms around her, and he took no advantage.

He could easily have moved his hands to certain parts of her body and she wouldn't have cared. But he didn't. He could have laid her and finally had sex with her which he hadn't even done when they were together the first time. But he didn't.

No, Mama Allen would have been proud of her boy. He had been raised a good Catholic. And even those who strayed too far from the faith would always have at least some sense of right and wrong inside them.

No, he loved her too much to take the advantage. Although she was more than willing to have let him have his way. No, he would not. So, he contented himself to soaking in her perfume, the soft rabbit-fur like feel of her hair. And to sleep, with her beautiful body in his arms. Even if she still had her clothes on.

As they slept, entering the apartment a massive bright light entered. Hunted it was, and despite its power, it had been too long outside an encounter suit or corporeal being. It needed a telepath or someone with the gene. It was entirely improper and outrageous for the Commanding General of all Vorlon Forces to be near death. And there it was.

The human female. He could feel a touch of darkness in her. But, she was not nearly as touched as the man she seemed to be in love with. He could have changed that. Destroyed her love for the man. But, love is a most powerful of tools. Vorlons had grown beyond the need for love, but Constantine XI, last ruler of the Roman Empire, even if he was evolved to become a Vorlon, knew it's power. And he entered her and she gasped and shuddered as the being and power filled her.


	34. Lessons in Love and Beauty

**Chapter 33: Lessons in Beauty and Love**

Lyta looked over at the glass of water on the counter and thought to herself, _I'm really thirsty. I guess I'll grab the cup and drink it._ The cup flew at her, starting her and she ducked, the glass smashing into the wall behind her. She turned to look at it, her eyes wide and staring at the fluid as it ran down the wall and soaked the dark orange wallpaper of her apartment.

"Did I do that?" she asked aloud, knowing no one would hear it.

-Yes.-

She started and looked around, trying to find the person who had spoken. Wasn't she alone? And it hadn't sounded like the love of her life. So. Was someone here to attack here.

"Where are you?" she called, out, reaching for the empty flower vase and gripping the neck.

-I am where I am.-

She frowned. "Who are you?" she asked, suspiciously, slowly moving through the apartment and checking each room slowly, wielding the vase like a club.

-Who are you?-

"I asked the question first," she retorted, checking the closet of her bedroom and throwing open the door. No, no one was there.

-I asked the question second.-

She didn't like that very much. "Show yourself with your hands empty and where I can see them," she ordered, feeling a little more scared then she was.

-Look in the mirror.-

"Why?" she asked, "so you can come up and attack me from the back? Butt-rape me? I think not."

-Look in the mirror.-

Suddenly with a flash of pain in her brain, she was suddenly assailed by a vision. A great city by a great body of water. It could have been a sea. The low murmur of hundreds, no thousands of people as they went about their business ran through the city. And the lord of the city walked upon the battlements of his city, a feeling of great despair shrouding the otherwise glorious day.

She snapped back to her time and world and reality and reeled, feeling her body nearly collapse as the vision left. A sense of bewilderment was upon her. Was that a dream? No, she had felt the cool breeze upon her face, and had felt the warmth of the sun in that cloudless day. She slowly sank to the ground, letting deep uneven breaths enter her lungs, trying to calm herself.

"What-who are you?" she whispered, "Are you a telepath? What are you?"

-Look in the mirror.-

Almost afraid of what she would find, she pushed herself from the floor and slowly stood. Her fingers gripped the knobs of the dresser drawers and she used them to pull herself up. She slowly reached the top and looked into the mirror as she stood tall. Her eyes glowed white and her mouth poured brilliant white light.

-I am Constantine XI Palaeologus.- the being spoke -Last Emperor of the Roman Empire. Last of the Rulers of the Byzantine Empire. Last Lord of Constantinople. The Marble Emperor. He who was taken into heaven by the Vorlons and changed into one of their own. I come when I am most needed to save Humanity by any means necessary. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lyta Alexander.-

* * *

"What does this have to do with anything?" Sheridan asked, staring at Kosh. "What could possibly be down here on Sol-Markab?"

-Beauty.- Kosh replied. -Love. Truth.-

"How can beauty, love and truth help me fight legends?' Sheridan asked, frowning at the entrance of the cave.

-Truth is the basis of all defense.- Kosh said. -Love brings clarity. Beauty brings Love.-

For the past three weeks Kosh had been teaching Sheridan on an every other day basis about how to fight Shadows. Or as he said, "Legends". And yet, everything had been cryptic and mostly about...well...John J. Sheridan. He didn't even know why. And now they stood on the third world of the dead Markab system, standing at the entrance to a cave deep in a swamp. Wasn't this reminiscent of an old Sci-Fi movie?

"What's in there?" he asked, staring doubtfully at the cave entrance.

Kosh said nothing, but moved his eyestalk to look at the entrance of the cave. Sheridan waited for an answer. But none was forthcoming. Finally, Sheridan gave up and bracing himself stepped into the cave entrance.

Once he was in the entrance, all light behind him darkened to utter blackness, as if a switch had been flicked. He turned back, as if hoping it wasn't true. But, a soft glow came from behind him, and he turned. The light stayed in front of him, a soft greenish-blue glow. He stepped forward, and the light continued forward, passing through the tunnel deep and deeper into the cave.

As he walked deeper, he could hear a low hum. He tried to listen, and caught catches of words in a language he had never heard before. But, the words touched a part of him, deep inside. It was the beauty of the sun as it set, painting the clouds in orange and yellow. It was the softness of flower-pedals in his fingers. It was the first stirrings of love in his heart at the sight of his dead wife Anna. It was the euphoria of victory.

He didn't know how far he went, lost in the music and following the light that was directing him to some unknown destination. Roots in the ground seemed to part to let him pass. Finally, he was led to a small chamber, and the light seemed to illuminate from the very air itself. On a pillar of rock that rose over a small liquid of green water where vapors rose sat an alien. Much like a bird, it had feathers but no beak. It's eyes were black but there was a frightening sense of timeless wisdom buried deep inside.

"I am Helzek," the alien said in a voice that while sounding normal, was echoed as if by some creatures in the background, "Oracle of the Ne'ld'or'a. I have the gift of insight, prophecy and all-knowledge. You are John Jeffery Sheridan and your soul is like a crystal piece of wax on a page to be read by those who can read. You came here without knowledge of what you would find, but you come to learn how to defeat the Movers of Darkness and Shadow."

Sheridan frowned. This creature knew more than he was comfortable with. "Yes," he acknowledged.

The creature blinked. "You may ask three questions. The first question will be of beauty. The second question will be of love. The last question will be of truth. If you ask outside of these or ask in the incorrect order, your mind shall be erased of any remembrance of this place. So ask carefully."

Sheridan took a deep breath. Three questions. So this was what Kosh was saying. He did not know if he believed the creature, but he guessed he had to know. See what could be found to learn.

"Okay," he nodded, "Beauty. Can...can humanity return to its place among the stars? Will it ever be able to become what it once was? Can it re-become the Alliance or is it doomed to stay broken and submissive to the whims of aliens? Can you answer all of them as one question or is this breaking the rules?"

"It is a just question," Helzek smiled, it's eyes glowing the deepest and darkest purple he had ever seen, "Humanity has a deep beauty. One that has been suppressed by the wars of aliens and its own defeat. The old ways will never serve humanity; that path leads to ugliness and insanity. The Movers of Darkness and Shadow knows the beauty of the Human race and hopes to corrupt it to serve them. It will rise to become the jewel of the galaxy, leading an Interstellar Empire. With an Emperor with wisdom, truth and blessed of beauty. It shall make all races beautiful in turn. But it will take unique beauty to save it."

An odd answer. But, Sheridan felt it appropriate. An Empire? An Emperor? Who could they be? Him? Certainly not. He was a soldier, and always had been. But unique beauty would save it? He opened his mouth to ask...but stopped short. No...he would not waste a question on that. The creatures eyes had returned to black, awaiting his next question.

"Do I love Delenn?' he asked, "Or is it simply a whim? Will I ever stop loving Anna, despite her death? And does she love me?"

"That question treads in both truth and love," Helzek muttered, "But I will allow it." It's eyes turned a furious red, that seemed as if fire was crackling deep in its mind.

"You will never stop loving your wife of old," it replied, "She is as much a part of you as your hand. But, the pain of the loss will diminish in time. You love Delenn, and she loves you. Your love will shake the foundations of powers, and principalities. But, I warn you now...the love you have for your wife of old will be your undoing if you are not careful. Beware your love, for it can be your downfall if you are not guarded against it. And it could lead to the death of your wife to be."

Sheridan's eyebrows furrowed. His love for his dead wife could be his downfall? What in h-l's name did that mean? But, he really did love Delenn and it was powerful. That was good to know. And he was to marry Delenn? That was good news.

"Kosh says I will die if I go to Za'Ha'Dum," Sheridan said, "Will I die if I go to Za'Ha'Dum? Is there any way to win this war without going there? Are the visions I saw on _Babylon 4_ going to happen?"

Helzek's eyes turned a cold white. It was as cold as the grave. Sheridan felt his skin crawl.

"You will die if you go to Za'Ha'Dum," the creature said, "As will all those who go to save you. But not all deaths pertain to the death of flesh. But yours does. And there is no avoiding that fate. If you do not go, the Movers of Darkness and Shadow will win this war. As for the visions you saw...they will all come to pass. But, not as you might think it."

Behind Sheridan a light turned on and he saw the opening. He turned to leave but the creature in a voice said, "They will betray you."

"Who?" Sheridan nearly asked, but stopped himself but half-turned to Helzek.

"You have seen a glimpse of the brutality of their rule," it said, "You can trust the one you know, but few others. You will be forced to fight them for the survival of the galaxy. But they will be a mere shadow of what will follow them. Now, go."

Sheridan hesitated, but slowly walked towards the opening of the cave. And a deep sense of foreboding was upon him.


	35. The Breaking of the Storm

Chapter 34: The Breaking of the Storm

July 27, 2260.

Epsilon 3. Nova Moscow. Clark awoke, feeling the warmth of the summer of Epsilon 3. Some claimed there were no changes of the season on Epsilon 3. He disagreed. It was warmer then it usually was. What few people realized, mainly because they had adjusted to it was the coldness of the Epsilon system. But he felt none of the warmth of the sun. He was a puppet ruler, and nothing more.

New Geneva. Bester knew there would be no turning back. As Talia lay there, a cold sheen of sweat on her face, he reached out to stroke her cheek. His lieutenants would do their jobs, and he knew he could count on them. He needed to be here, with his dying wife. And as he held her in his arms, cursing the unfairness of it all, he felt it for the first time. Undeveloped but alive. The mind of his child. And he wept bitterly at the revelation of his newly conceived child and how it and its mother would die.

Lyta laid on her bed, her mind filling with images of the Vorlon homeworld, feeling her powers and body being changed and transformed by her Vorlon guest, and learned about the Commanding General of all Vorlon Forces.

Epsilon 2.

Nova Quebec. Zack Allen walked up to the shop at the end of the street. The business district had just started its daily routine nearly ten minutes ago, and he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. He stepped inside the shop and made a beeline to the engagement rings.

Reebo and Zooty prepared for their new tour of Epsilon Eridani, and Reebo looked at Zooty in bewilderment. The man had stopped talking and used a machine that had been a prop to do all the talking. The only thing he'd heard in months from his partner was, "Why?"

**Markab Space**

_Zha'Valen'Venni_. Lennier sat in meditation, connecting himself with the universe. It seemed if the cosmos themselves were holding their breath.

John Sheridan awoke to find Delenn still there, snuggled close to him. It hadn't been a dream. He had consummated his relationship with Delenn, and knew he wanted her forever.

Stephan Franklin walked towards his quarters, dragging his feet. It had been a long day...wait, it was night. No...it was morning. D-n. He'd been up and on-call for over thirty hours. And he was looking forward to getting some rest.

Marcus Cole awoke, a sense of something out of place. Like a man who awakes to find something is out of place. But, as he looked around, he saw a light from the adjacent room. He stood up, pulled a robe over his underwear and opened up the sliding door. "Well," Susan Ivanova said, sitting on his recliner, "I think we need to have a talk."

Laura Takashima walked into medlab, and looked at Commander Corwin. He sat there, in isolation. In a straight jacket. And slobber dropped from his slack mouth. She was followed by Julie Musante, who'd been switched over to work with Takashima, and that was when she first saw David Corwin, and she was immediately smitten with him.

**Centauri Republic**

Golus III. The planet was nearly fallen, but G'Kar couldn't help but be depressed. It had taken far more troops then he had expected to control one planet. Two Narn Destroyers had been sent to bolster his forces, but as he looked at reports of the Centauri, he shuddered to think of what they could do.

Centauri Prime. Prime Minister Londo Mollari left his estate, feeling oddly very sad about leaving his wives. Or, to be specific, Timov. But, for all his desire, he had a job to do. And Malachi was waiting.

Vir Cotto felt the belly of his excited wife. To imagine. He'd have twins! The doctors had said as such. Even as Gideon began to appear before him, he was in no mood to speak to him, when he was busy fondling the stomach of the woman who carried his children.

**Minbari Federation**

Tigress. Above the sleepy moon, a fleet stood ready to depart. Marrain and Neroon looked out, knowing this strike would begin in earnest the civil war. And they'd all be guilty of breaking their first and greatest law. And with humans alongside them to boot.

Minbar. Kalain stood over the body of the beheaded Anla'Shok, feeling the warmth of the red blood on his face. Shakiri stepped in, not sparing a glance at the dead body, but keeping at eye to the corners and shadows. He stepped up to Kalain and saluted him.

**Vorlon Space**

Vorlon Homeworld. The Crystal Queen sensed the presence of Highest General Kiltor standing in front of her. Even with her eyes closed in the state she was, she could see his White encounter-suit. -Commanding General Constantine has sent word that the time is now. Ready our forces.- Kiltor bowed slightly and turning his suit around glided off.

Za'Ha'Dum. He was known by many names. The Shadow Emperor. The Many-Faced King. Ruler of Chaos. Lord of Despair. But the one he preferred most was the Changing Emperor. His current form was of a Minbari, tall and proud. His servants stepped forward from the Shadows and bowed to him. He transformed into a Ban'shee, the great ghosts the shadows had sent to plague the humans so many years ago. Greenish hue, see through, long hair and a comb in knobby hands.

"The time is now!" the Emperor wailed, causing all to shudder at the terror he invoked.

**Brakiri Space**

Between the routes of Gil-mash and Den'gar'ish General Kulomani looked at his forces. He had nearly ten ships to go join Sheridan. He was proud at the achievement he had done. He had never known his own convincing power until he was in the presence of the Krona and convinced them to lend aid to Sheridan's Alliance. Just then, there was a scream and they all shuddered.

"What is it?" he asked, clapping a hand over his ear, although the scream was more in the mind than ears.

"We've got seventeen enemy ships bearing down on us!" the conn officer reported from his position, "They look like...sir, those are those Shadow ships that are allied with the Human Remnant."

"Ready all weapons!" he shouted, "Evasive maneuvers!"

Within minutes every ship was destroyed, and Kulomani was on the deck of his bridge, blood flowing from a head wound. The Shadows slipped away, glad of the chaos they had inflicted. The Shadow War had begun.


	36. An End of an Era

**Chapter 35: An End of an Era**

Marrago walked to the bridge of his _Primus_-Class _Eagle of the Republic._ It was an odd name to be sure, but he had once seen a vid of the eagles of Earth. The majestic nature of those birds had been inspirational to him, and he hoped that the Gods had eagles. He would much like to see them in the afterlife.

"Lord-Admiral Dormo hailing us sir," the communications officer reported from his position at the rear right of the bridge.

"Put him on screen," he nodded and the face of his friend and superior appeared on there, "Lord-Admiral."

"Well Lord-General," Dormo said, sitting in his command chair and his bridge crew bustling about as they prepared to head out, "Time to hold the hair up of the Republic."

Marrago laughed. "That's a ton of hair, sir," he laughed.

"Remember the plan," Dormo said, "We hit them and hard."

"I'll see you on the flipside, sir," he replied, "Just like the Lord-Generals Zarrago and Tokor meeting in the midst of the Xon at the Battle of Tribaldo."

"Take care, friend Jonas," Dormo leaned forward, "Dormo out."

The screen went blank, and Marrago could see the ready status of the massive fleet on the console screen attached to his command chair. Over a hundred ships were there, not including the seven Selvan dreadnaughts that looked like pieces of cut meat. Like steak. All engines were a go.

He looked out and saw jump-points opening. One by one ships began to slide into the fiery vortexes that were the mouths of the other dimension. The ships that would be going with him had been given their new orders in writing. He didn't want the Selvan alerted to the diversion in plans.

"The Lord-Admiral has just entered hyperspace," the operations officer reported, looking at the radar screen.

"Then let us be on our way," he said with a grunt, "Engines ahead full. Have the Selvan reported their understanding of the plans?"

"They have alerted they will be where the glory is to be found."

"Odd phrase," he muttered, and they slid into hyperspace.

* * *

They were finally on their way. G'Kar felt a great sense of apprehension. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He had stripped the rest of their holdings in the Centauri Republic to the bare minimum to hold what they had taken. But even then, he knew he'd be seriously outmatched. He only had twenty-five capitol warships. And if the Selvan were to be trusted, he'd have sixty ships jumping on him.

He had stacked his ships in a two line defense. Heavy Cruisers in the front, _G'Quan_ cruisers in the back. And Frazi fighter creating a heavy screen in front of them and on the flanks. He could give ground slowly, backing up ships to kind of leapfrog backwards, giving crews time to rest and recharge weapons.

"Jump points opening," the conn reported, "We've got at least twenty ships pouring through."

Ah...so Marrago wasn't committing everything to the first wave. This should be easy.

"Prepare yourselves," he said, "The great battle of the war is upon us."

* * *

The ships slid out of hyperspace, coming into view of the great dead planet. The reports came back. The area was clear of enemy ships. Okay, that was a relief. The Narns might be harsh warriors, but they were no strategists that would think of protecting every road to Narn.

"How long until the fleet's hyper-drive engines are recharged?" he asked.

"It'll take ninety seconds," the operations officer reported.

"That's fine," he said, leaning back, "We can afford to take a rest. There's no hurry."

"Uh, sir?" tactical called out, "We've got incoming."

"Incoming?" he turned to him, "From where?"

"The planet," he said, "Configurations are that of the ships that ambushed the fleet at Gorash."

"Can we jump?" Dormo asked, a cold feeling in his gut.

"Seventy seconds left."

"Then we have no choice," Dormo said, "Lord-Admiral Dormo to fleet. We've got incoming. Execute defensive formation _Hellio Constance._"

* * *

Marrago watched as the first wave was ambushed by the defensive forces of G'Kar. The fighters had scrambled out of the way, and with cocky abandon the captains had streamed forward, hoping to hit the enemy and break them. But then, from behind both sides had come the G-Quan Cruisers. They had circled around the entire wave of ships and had fired lasers into them, tearing ships apart. The fighters had began executing strafing runs on the ships. Within two minutes the whole lot was in trouble of being annihilated.

But, he waited for the moment. Ships after ship was destroyed, although they weren't going down without a fight. But, he would wait. He could feel his bridge crew anxiously awaiting to go in to save their comrades. But, he'd wait.

All but five ships were gone now, and they wouldn't last long. Two of the heavy cruisers had been forced to withdraw, but they weren't needed for this. And now was the time.

"Second wave," he called through the fleet channel, "Move in and engage."

* * *

Never had Dormo been in a battle more desperately fought. Not on Gorash, not at Golus. Not even during the last battle of the Centauri Expansion period. Ships were firing so fast that they were dangerously close to overheating. His men were sweating despite the few seconds of combat. It had the strange effect of invigorating him.

The Shadows were coming in, fast and furious. Seventeen of the fleet had been destroyed in as many seconds, the Shadows only attacking with ten ships. But, Dormo watched the barrage of his ships knock back an enemy ship, taking off most of its spikes and sending it spiraling in space. But even as it fell back, in a massive explosion the other Primus-Class of the strike force went up. The force of the explosion shoving it's comrade ships aside.

"How much longer until we can jump?" he demanded.

"Twenty seconds."

_Not soon enough._

* * *

Main General Mo Mok knew of the bloodshed and carnage now reigning at Golus and Za'Ha'Dum. And the Dark Masters whispered their wishes to him. He let his commands echo in the minds of his crew, each man knowing what must be now done. The ships positioned themselves above the Capitol City of Centauri Prime.

* * *

"We are getting an urgent message from the Minister of War," the communications officer reported.

Marrago looked back from the battle, the third wave now driving WarMaster G'Kar's forces before them. G'Kar's fleet had been all but shattered. Sixteen of the fleet was destroyed. Two had surrendered, and were currently being boarded by Imperial Marines. They had driven his forces back to Golus II, and they were driving them towards the systems star.

"I didn't realize we had a Minister of War yet," he rolled his eyes, "Put him on screen."

The first indication something was wrong was the violent shaking he could see onscreen and dust falling from the ceiling behind the Minister of War. He looked deathly afraid.

"What is it?" he asked, "I am in middle of a battle here."

"We are under attack!" he nearly screamed in panic, and from a window behind the quailing Minister he could see smoke, "They took out the planetary defense grid. They are bombing the Capitol!"

"Who are these people?" Marrago said, trying to calm him down by showing him calmness.

"The Selvan!" the Minister wept.

"That's impossible," Marrago reasoned, "They went to-"

"They never left..." the screen went off as if it had been cut at the source.

"I want the third wave to break off immediately!" he ordered, "And I want this ship and any ship currently not engaged in battle to break off and immediately set course for Centauri Prime. Maximum speed."

* * *

The _G'Quan Incarnate_ shook as the Vorcha class cruiser swept down upon it, blasting away. G'Kar knew this battle wasn't going his way, and if something didn't change soon, the whole fleet would be lost. The ship spun according to orders he had given a few seconds before and hit the enemy ship full on as it was sweeping by, destroying it in a grisly death.

Even with the sudden recall of most of the enemy armada, he was still losing this fight. D-n if this wasn't a bad day. He once heard the best commanders knew when to bow out of an unwinnable fight. And he wanted to be one of the best.

"All ships," he ordered, "We need to get out of here. Prepare to..."

"Look!" the tactical officer, "A...massive something is appearing behind the enemy fleet."

"That tells me a bunch," he spat, "Show me!"

And he looked as the most massive warship he'd ever seen appeared behind them. It was roughly the size of an entire continent, maybe hundreds of kilometers across. Space was filled with the view of this ship, which looked for all intents and purposes like a hand.

The "fingers" of the ship slowly bent, and massive bolt of energy shot forth, vaporizing ten enemy ships at one time. The Centauri knew they were done for and tried to flee, firing as they escaped. The remaining ships tried to escape, but the hand curled around them and clenched. G'Kar's eyes grew wide. The ship slowly vanished, leaving the Narns be.

"What...what...what was that?" Na'Toth asked, sitting behind him.

"By G'Quan," he said, "I have no idea."

But, in his mind, he heard whispers. Whispers so foul and antithesis of anything living. Something that recalled to mind the darkest of nightmares. But, he also felt a sense of deep and dark frustration. As if it had finally reached out of its banishment and the prison cells had closed before it could fully emerge.

"We have been most fortunate," G'Kar said, "I feel a malevolence that makes me want to curl up and choke on my own vomit. I do hope though we never see it again. Or else, we will never be able to escape."

* * *

The hyperspace vortexes were open and Lord-Admiral Dormo watched as his ship raced to freedom. Ten ship. A mere ten ships remained of his mighty armada. But, even as he felt freedom come closer, he saw something black rush past him and began to collapse to the vortex.

"Reverse course!" he shouted, "Reverse course!"

"Too late!" helm replied and Dormo cursed every one that resided in the pantheon of Gods as the vortex collapsed and his ship tore to pieces around him.

* * *

Marrago felt as his ship slipped out of hyperspace and watched in horror as Narn cruisers suddenly dropped out as well. He had only been able to bring back thirty ships, but the Narns had over fifty ships. And with the Selvan, they were plastering the capitol below in death and destruction. More than one of his crew wept openly at the sight. More Narn ships were pouring through, and soon the whole planet was ringed in enemies. Marrago had no choice.

"Set course for Markab space," he said, head held high, trying to exuberate confidence.

"But we can't leave Centauri Prime," the Captain of the ship replied in a scandalized tone, "We must stay and fight!"

"We will return!" Marrago replied, looking at his entire bridge crew, "But not until we can gather allies. Recover our strength. I will not lead us into a massacre."

The Narns were so lustful of their chance for revenge they didn't even hinder the Centauri fleet as it fled into hyperspace.

* * *

Cartagia looked out the window, noting with satisfaction they weren't aiming for the palace. The bombardment had grown worse, but he didn't mind. He was a God after all. Prime Minister Mollari had begged him to flee, but he would not. He was Emperor, and if he could, he'd become a vassal of the Narns. He'd let them have their revenge. What was that to him?

He turned to the wife he had stolen from Reefa and looked at her, desire in his eyes. He advanced on her and took her in the throne room, conceiving his heir as his homeworld burned. Let the sweltering heat of the burning of his world fire the passion and lust that he poured into her border on the severity of rape.


	37. All's Not Well

**Chapter 36: All's Not Well**

The explosion tore through the Civic Center of Nova Moscow. The ground for miles around trembled with the force of the explosion. At the time there was a major school dance going on, with five hundred students there from three schools. All but a few died and those that survived all agreed on one point. The song that had been playing had anti-Clark sentiments, and it was during the last verse it had exploded.

Clark immediately made a speech saying that his people had nothing to do with the bombing. Only problem was, the news sources hadn't yet gotten much information on what happened, and the immediate denial of responsibility before the news was leaked backfired on Clark. Within four hours, half the stores on Epsilon 3 had been looted and fifty members of Night Watch had been lynched. A day would pass before the rioters were suppressed by Riot Teams from Remnant Security.

But, Bester had gotten the result he wanted. The populace was at war against the government.

The revolt having begun, he decided to do what was necessary. D-n be caution. There are some duties that go beyond caution and reason.

He sat in the chair by the bed, heavy plastic walls surrounding the patient to keep her from being exposed to the outside air. He wanted to touched her, but the doctors had told him their treatments were highly experimental, and they had no idea what his physical interaction would do. Slowly he reached out with his mind and brushed against her mind.

_Alfred?_

_Yes, love?_

_I'm frightened._

_I know. I know._

* * *

Clark paced around the library of the Presidential Mansion, a towering fury and rage boiling inside him. How dare they? He wasn't responsible for what happened at that student dance. Why would the people believe such lies? His security were sweeping the premises, grabbing stones and rocks that had been thrown and tossing them into the street.

"Now you see don't you?" Mr. Morden said, sitting in the chair by the small fireplace, "You should have let us handled the situation our way. Your world is in flames, Mr. President."

"Don't you think I know that?" he barked at him, "And everything was going so well too. And according to General Hague, the _Nemesis_ just defected to Sheridan, destroying the Starfury squadron sent out to stop them. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"My associates have engaged their larger issues," the man said, "We would appreciate it if our allies could keep a handle on things."

"Handle on things you say," he snorted, "And how am I to do that?"

"Next riot have your forces fire upon them."

Clark stopped and looked sharply at Morden. "You can't be serious," Clark said.

"Oh," Morden held up a finger, "Quiet serious. You want order, Mr. President? You are going to need to use strength."

* * *

Captain Thompson laid back on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling. They had just defeated a small holding force at the Minbari planet of Twiaz. The action had been swift, yet decisive. And it made him wonder about his father. He wasn't a very good General. How then had he been able to pull off all these victories, heck, he'd all but annihilated the Minbari forces before Marrain's fleet arrived on the scene.

He didn't like where the line of thought would carry him. Especially in such an environment such as this. Who knew who would be watching him. The door chimed and he didn't really turn towards it.

"Enter," he said, and the door popped open, allowing his second-in-command access, "Ahhh, couldn't sleep either I see."

"Never was much of a heavy sleeper, sir," Gilas said.

"In here we have no ranks," he said, "So what is on your mind, Sam?"

"Well, sir," she said, "A bunch."

"Please," he said, "You really don't have to be formal in here with me. These are my quarters. Call me, Jake."

"Okay..." she said, and like trying on a pair of shoes for size, "Jake."

He drummed on his chest and said, "Just tell me the one thing that's on your mind that brings you here to see me."

She took a deep breath. "I'm having feelings towards a certain member of the crew," she admitted.

"I feel sorry for whomever it is," he joked, "You are a regular-"

"Towards you sir."

He closed his eyes and pushed himself up to a sitting position. His Caucasian first officer was a very capable officer, and he respected her a ton. But, how does one go about such a situation.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said, looked up at her green eyes, "I have feelings for you as well."

Her green eyes went wide in shock. How many times did one have feelings that were reciprocated. Or, wouldn't returned the feelings of someone else. It was hard enough in a regular work environment. But here, in the military, it presented a very dangerous situation.

"I didn't realize you did sir," she said, "Even when you held my hand on the bridge that onetime, I assumed it was just to encourage me."

"Listen Sam," he said, "We must be very careful about these feelings. They could be dangerous. Imagine a situation where I'd have to send you into danger. Or, if I had to make you leave the ship and leave me behind. No, I can't put you through that. I respect you too much as a soldier and person to do so."

"I know," she said in dejected manner, "But, it's extremely hard."

He smiled at that and rising to his feet placed his hand on her arm and lifted her to her feet and began to walk her towards the hatch. It was just going to be easier to leave it at that. Even as he held her, he took a look at his own darker skin tone and her fair skin.

"Let's just keep it professional," he said, "No need to be embarrassed. Nothing happened here. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" she asked, as he grabbed the latch to open the hatch door.

"If we did have a relationship," he said, "Just think of what the children would look like."

"What?"

"Oreos."


	38. Underground

**Chapter 37: Underground**

G'Kar stood before the Centauri Emperor on his throne. The unconditional surrender of the Centauri Republic had been swift. Cartagia seemed almost eager to not lead his people.

The terms of the surrender had been in his mind, just. The Imperial Court and the Centarum was to be disbanded. And a leadership chosen by the Narns would replace them. Cartagia would keep his throne, but G'Kar would be the one calling the shots. If any Centauri killed a single Narn, five hundred Centauri, including the murders own family, would be executed. And all Centauri diplomatic posts were now null and void. A permanent curfew of sixteen hundred hours Centauri time was now in effect.

He sent his intimidating glare are Cartagia, who seemed to not notice. Then again, he seemed rather uncaring about the whole situation. If this was how the Centauri leadership had always been, no wonder they had lost the war. What was a wonder was they had taken Narn in the first place.

But, G'Kar also knew that the resistance would be pretty heavy. They'd need to be dealt with. The Kha'Ri would want it so. But G'Kar also knew that the technomage probably wanted whomever this Emperor would be to have a planet not totally blasted to pieces.

* * *

Vir hurried down the street, his cloak drawn around his face. He turned to head down an alleyway, but back-pedaled when he saw three Narns beating a Centauri. He had known some craziness to be sure, but as he glanced at the walls of the other side of the street and saw crucified Centauri women, stripped naked, he knew for a fact nothing had ever been so bad.

He had heard stories of the occupation of Narn, but none of the stories compared with the brutality he saw with the occupation of Centauri Prime. An elderly Centauri he'd seen have his skin sliced off his face, until nothing over his skull. The man had taken two days to die of the pain. One noble woman had been raped seven times within an hour and had died from the shock. He'd seen the fingers bitten off Centauri children.

He understood the need of revenge. Well, at least the feelings that push towards it. But what gave the Narns the right to be so brutal? Was it always going to be this way? A continuous cycle of bloodshed with no end?

He turned down another alleyway, and not seeing anyone down here scurried along it's dark pathway, heading for the back of the building. He knocked twice on the door very slowly, and then three rapid taps. The door slid open and he was let inside the completely dark room.

A glow ball lit up his face and he blinked in momentary blindness. There was a muttering of relief and the glow ball lowered.

"It's about time you showed up," Mollari said as the glow ball in front of his lit up, "Thought you got lost."

"Had to avoid Narn patrols," Vir shrugged his shoulders, "They are out in force."

"They'll be like that for a while," Malachi's rich voice came from the opposite side of the table, "I suspect they'll keep doing it until they tire of random violence."

"Whenever that will be," Vir mumbled.

He took the vacant chair and sat down, not much liking the secretness of such conspiracies. He hadn't cared for it as the leader of the Conspiracy of Light either. He just didn't feel comfortable with any of it.

"So," Mollari said, "What can you tell of your own agents?"

Vir thought very quickly. "They are busy now," he said, "What with the Shadows on the move and all. My own agents have suffered heavily over the past days, well, weeks really. Even my really powerful friends have goen to ground, trying to keep out of the Shadows sight."

"No help there," Malachi grunted.

"No," Mollari held up a hand, "That's fine. We'll need an eye on the outer galaxy. If things turn out well, we might be able to get help. What have you got, Malachi?"

"I've had no word from our forces that were on the offensive at the time of the assault," Malachi shook his head, "I do know that about three thousand professional soldiers are on Centauri Prime. About two hundred will join us."

"Two _hundred_?" Vir's eyes widened, "That's not a bunch."

"Better than nothing," Mollari soothed, "Now, what about your contacts?"

"Most escaped and are currently keeping a low profile," Malachi said with a hint of optimism, "They've pledged to funnel any money we might need into the resistance."

"Good," Mollari said, "We'll need that. My own contacts are currently going to Sheridan Starkiller. See if his Alliance can do anything to help us."

"Do you think he'll be able to?" Malachi asked, "If Vir is right and the whole galaxy is in strife, what makes you think he'll be able to come to our aid?"

"I don't," Mollari stated, "But, we need to keep all options open. And we need to let people know we aren't defeated. We also need to get in touch with any forces that escaped that are still out there. We'll need their support if we are to win back our home."


	39. A Chosen Vassal

**Chapter 38: A Chosen Vassal**

Many could say many things about the Technomages. Secretive, loners, harbingers of the abyss, cheap magicians, symbols, signs and portents. Few could say anything about the trio that stayed behind. While the rest of the Order fled out of this part of the galaxy for the hiding place, the old oaths sworn and bounds made still were in effect, and much like everything else, three was a sacred number. Even fewer could say anything about any of the individual members. Gideon, more likely then Galen or Elric. Never went they far from their small asteroid of sanctuary and ventured into the wide and ever darkening galaxy.

But now was different. Kosh Naranek had summoned them, needing them to perform a task. And so they went, traveling to Markab space. They passed by unchallenged. Even the humans, despite their less then familiarity with the Order of the Technomages, felt awe as their black triangular ship soared through space and arrived _Babylon 4_, renamed _Zha'Valen'Venni_.

Onto the deck of the docking bay they strode, walking past Anla'Shok who parted before them and past Human Remnant soldiers who scurried out of the way. The Tak'cha bowed before them, giving homage to the three as they passed by them towards the turbolift. Only two strode to confront them. Sheridan, commander of the station and Marcus Cole, finally up and about.

They met near medlab. And they stopped, each group sizing the other up.

"What brings you here?" Sheridan asked.

"We have been summoned," Elric replied, "And if you value the life of your alliance, you will let us pass."

"I don't think so," Sheridan retorted, "Not until you tell me what gives you the right to come through here, bold as brass."

"Would you like me to see them off?" Marcus asked, his hand itching towards his denn'bok. His own experience with them had not been overly pleasant.

"Not yet," he said, holding out his hand, "Why do you come here?"

"Kosh sent for us to perform a task," Elric said, his eyes flashing dangerously, "Now you can either let us pass or you will not stand. Either way, we shall be going through."

They two groups stared at each other. More of glaring. But, there was wisdom behind not provoking wizards. Finally, Sheridan stepped ever so slightly aside, and without so much as a nod, they marched in through the medlab doors and headed towards the bedside of David Corwin, currently on his back, blubbering about things no one but he could see.


	40. Calling in Favors

**Chapter 39: Calling in Favors**

Zack held Lyta's hand, playing with the engagement ring on her finger. As with everything else, she had completely been agreeable to the idea of getting married. She had practically begged for him to wed her as soon as possible, and so they set the date for the end of September. Not even a full two months away. Well, now that he thought about it, more like a month away.

"How did I ever deserve you?" he asked, his head leaning against her head, the _Interstellar News_ going through the latest news. Riots and executions were carrying on, and there were even firefights going on between crews of military ships.

But, nothing could dampen the mood that he had the hottest person of the galaxy leaning against his arm. He felt a severe slap on the back of his head and his eyes opened wide in surprise.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"For the dirty thoughts that just went through your mind," she chided.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, "You got your hand high on my leg near my prostate. Do you really think I could resist?"

She mockingly tisked. "You don't need any provocations to sexually fill your mind," she retorted.

"Can you blame me?" he growled, nibbling on her ear.

She giggled like a school-girl and before they knew it, they were poking each other in the sides, her laughing and him chuckling. They were soon on the floor, for all intents and purposes rough housing, and wrestling. He had just pulled her arms across and was pinning her to the floor when the door chimed.

Zack let a choice explicative slip out, and Lyta sighed. Zack let go, and helped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead, as she placed her hands on his waist. The door chimed again and they let go, Lyta moving towards the kitchen to grab something to drink.

Zack watched his love walk off and could help but feel his breath taken away. But, he shook his head and brought himself back to reality. He stepped up to the door and pressed the open button.

"Good evening, Mr. Allen," Morden said, standing there with his smug smile, "How are you?"

* * *

Corwin slowly stood up, his legs nearly collapsing under him. He reached out and grabbed the wall and used it to support his weight. Slowly he wended his way to the door to leave the isolation lab.

But, one of the human doctors swooped out of nowhere and grabbing his by the arm turned him around and began walking him back towards bed. It barely registered in his mind who it was that was taking him back.

"I can't stay here Doctor...H...," he protested, trying to remember her name.

"It's Hobbs, sir," she said, "But you can't be going out. The galaxy will still be there when you are recuperated and ready to rejoin humanity."

"But Hobbs," he pleaded, "I can't stay here. John needs me helping him."

"Captain Sheridan has gotten along well enough the many months you were out of commission," Hobbs stated, pushing him back onto the bed, "And besides, think about it Commander. What were you seriously going to do?"

"I could have..." he struggled to think, "Could have done something."

"You can barely walk," she pointed out, "Not to mention your brain isn't back up to full speed yet. Can't remember my name, and you are having troubles forming ideas and coherent thoughts. Don't worry, David. We'll get you back up to speed in no time."

He grunted. He couldn't think of anything he could argue with. Inconvenient that. So, defeated he laid back in bed. Not long had he been down there and Hobbs was off, when a woman walked into the room.

He turned to look at her and wanted to say she looked familiar. But he couldn't place her. Oh well, probably just as well.

"Hello Commander," she said, stepping up to him and standing by the bed, "How are you feeling?"

Corwin couldn't help himself but to take a quick apprising look. Wow...this woman was something. Whomever she was, she was...well. D-n, he couldn't think of the word he wanted to use.

"Not entirely bad," he said, "I'm ready to take on Zargs."

"Sure you are," she snorted, "Just as I'm an angel from heaven sent to deliver God's word."

"You are not an angel?" he asked.

"No," she frowned, "Why?"

"Surely I was dead and in heaven," he said, and before he could stop himself, "Because surely there aren't as perfect women here as there."

She let a small smile spread across your face. "Well, thanks," she said, "But I assure you, I'm no angel. Oops, silly me, I didn't introduce myself. Julie Musante. But you can call me Julie."

He had been in the process of berating himself. That obviously was a sign his brain wasn't working properly. He was easily intimidate by women. He remembered Sheridan and him had once gone to a bar on Epsilon 2 and Sheridan had tried getting Corwin to pick up women there. But, he had been totally blasted away when he had tried to talk to any of them when he perked the courage up, and had ended up vomiting on the floor when one had smiled at him.

"D-David Corwin," he said, "But if you like you can call me Da-rwin."

"Darwin huh?" she gave a mischief smile.

"Well...I mean," he stammered.

"I understood," she smiled at him, and patting his shoulder said, "Well, it was good to meet you, Darwin."

And she walked out. And he had stared the entire time. And was still staring that way hours after she was gone. Surely he had died, or maybe she had fallen from heaven to save his soul.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Zack asked, his hands hanging limp on his leg.

"You must kill her," Morden said, sitting across from him on a barstool.

"I don't see why," he said, shaking her head, "She's a good person. A loving person."

"She might be loving," Morden said, "But she also caused Earth's destruction. How can you forget that so easily?"

"There has to be another way," she shook his head, "Delenn was a mentor of mine. In my own way I loved her. Surely not as much as I love Lyta, but all the same."

But the smug man pressed on. "You wanted your chance to avenge yourself upon those who had taken your life," he reminded him, "Made it impossible for you and your beloved to be together. And this is your chance. Go and kill her. Avenge yourself of her."

Zack leaned his face in his hands. No, he couldn't do it. Not Delenn. She was among the most caring people he had ever known.

"I...I can't," he said, "Gove me any other Minbari and I will kill them. But not Delenn."

"If you don't kill Delenn," Morden replied with a cold calm, "Do you not think we can easily take away what we have given you? We can make you revert back to being a Minbari. Outcast among your own people. And Lyta...we can easily turn her obsessive love to unbridled hatred. She'd know you caused the death of her husband and instead of forgiving you, she would drive you out. Hunt you down the rest of your life. Do you really want to lose so much for one woman? A woman whose a Minbari?"

And now the debt was here. And the price had to be paid. Morden sat there as he struggled. Would he kill one whom had taken her under her wing? Or would he spare her and lose everything? But then, each time he was about to say no...he thought of Lyta. And he couldn't live without her. Not again.

"Alright..." he said, feeling a cold chill inside as he accepted, "I'll do your bloody work for you. But I will kill no one else for you."

"You won't need to kill anyone else after she's dead."


	41. Zargista

**Chapter 40: Zargista**

Black like night, three Zargs ran through the foresty-undergrowth of their homeworld. An animal akin to a deer with six legs instead of four and a longer nose and four ivory horns on their heads instead on antlers leapt over fallen logs, trying to escape the Zargs pursuing it. Jeremiah on Epsilon 3 was writing a holy book, and he called them perfection. The perfect hunter. And indeed they moved with a skillful grace that belied their forms and rubbery skin.

A noise sounded through the forests and they stopped and looked up, sniffing as they saw a massive black ship begin descending. A scream tore in their minds and turning they fled, panicked into the forest.

"There is no pattern," Sheridan lightly pounded his desk, "Sure, when they attack, everything is very logical. But, there is no pattern to where and when they attack."

"D-n inconvenient," Garibaldi shrugged his shoulders.

"As all men have said about successful Scottish men," Marcus said with raised eyebrows, "Typical."

"How can we know where they are going to strike and hit them first?" John mused, "Wars are about anticipating the enemy and countering their moves. How can you predict an unpredictable enemy?"

"It is frustrating," Delenn agreed.

"The Shadows are creating a massive base on Zargista," a Ranger said, striding into the room and stopping to stand in front of Sheridan and Marcus, "We suspect that by the end of the week, they'll be able to strike the Vree, Abbi and Selvans easily. And with numbers."

"We can't have this," Garibaldi said from where he stood, leaning against a post, "This is bad news."

"Yes," Sheridan said, looking at the map that the Minbari was displaying, "If they settle in deeper, we will never be able to oust them without massive casualties. We need to attack there. And soon."

"Not sure who you are going to use," Susan said, sitting on the chair, her eyes staring in Marcus direction who struggled not to notice, "Kulomani was going to provide the largest force, and he's still recovering from the Battle of Gil'mash."

"How many ships has Daro sent to us?" Garibaldi asked.

"Twelve," Delenn said from her spot, next to Ivanova, "Na'Tok said he'll send a couple heavy cruisers by the end of the week. The Vree have sent two ships and the Abbai haven't sent any yet. And with the fall of the Centauri Republic, I'm not sure we'll be seeing any of their ships soon."

"And the _Nemesis_ won't be here for a couple days," Sheridan rubbed his forehead, "How are the Rangers? Are they ready to take on the Shadows head on?"

"Our forces aren't as numerous as you might expect," Marcus said, "and until Neroon is able to send his force, we got very few Minbari. We have perhaps twenty White Stars."

"So with the five Brakiri warships," Susan said, "We got perhaps...oh, forty ships perhaps a few more. Wonderful."

"There is one other thing you have to take into account," Garibaldi reminded them all, "So far the Shadows have been focusing on the Brakiri and other smaller worlds. If we get engaged now, not only are we not ready for a major fight, but we will be alerting the Shadows that we are in the fight."

"I know," Sheridan said, "But we don't have much choice, do we? We will take everyone except two of the Drazi Sun-Hawks. Susan and Garibaldi will hold down the fort. Along with Delenn."

"No," she said, "I won't stay behind, John. I have been in battle before."

"I'm not asking you to cower or anything," Sheridan shook his head, "If we get more people showing up, I'll need someone I trust to make sure they get sorted. Any your Grey Council training is perfect for such a role."

"Is this how humans tell their women to stay out of danger?" she asked.

"Nope," Susan said mockingly, "They just say, 'Woman, clean my room. Wash the dishes. And my dinner better be done before I get home'."

"Amazing how she's got that down pat," Garibaldi said in mock awe, "Hey Susan, can you-"

"Don't even think about it Garibaldi," she held up a threatening finger.

* * *

"Well," Sheridan said, walking on-board the bridge of White Star One. Marcus had taken White Star Two. It didn't make any sense to have the two de facto leaders of the alliance in one boat. It's be a hard day for the Alliance if anything bad happened.

"Open a channel to Delenn," he ordered, Lennier translating the orders into Minbari.

The whole front section rippled into a viewscreen and Delenn was standing by Ivanova, up on the bridge. Ivanova was holding the edge of the control console to keep herself upright. Sheridan still couldn't get used to see Ivanova without her walking canes.

"We are heading off now," Sheridan said, once he had gotten used to the panoramic view which made the two women larger than life, "We'll send updates every hour."

"An hour is a long time," Delenn said sorrowfully.

"Don't worry," Sheridan assured her, "I have complete faith in Michael and Susan. They'll take care of you."

"Don't worry John," Ivanova said, "We'll keep her safe."

Sheridan smiled. "I love you Delenn."

"And I you. Valen walk with you."

The viewscreen flickered off and he smiled as he looked at the rest of his fleet. Well, time to get this show on the road.

* * *

Before the Shadows knew it, a fleet had dropped out of hyperspace. They slowly began to rise from the ground to meet this threat. But, they had not expected Sheridan to discover them so quickly and had made no defenses around the planet. But, as the ships began screaming into orbit and firing down on them, destroying most before they even lifted off the ground, they realized their tactical blunder.

"Shadows are rising from the surface," Lennier translated a report.

"How many?" Sheridan asked, watching the bombardment of the base.

"Three," he reported.

"Sheridan to Drazi ships," he ordered, his voice carrying over the fleet channel, "Keep your fire concentrated on the bombardment. Human ships, you and the Vree will join Marcus and the right half of the White Stars in an upper atmosphere attack. The left wing shall pull back with me a hundred kilometers backwards, faking a retreat. Then, we'll swing around when the Shadows have reached space and attack."

"_Lucky me_," Marcus snorted on a private channel to Sheridan, "_I get to occupy the Shadows while you come sweeping in for the glory._"

"Oh," Sheridan laughed, "Your part will be worthy a song or two. Hey, maybe your statue in the Great Hall will be of you sitting in your chair."

"_Not very heroic_," Marcus replied.

* * *

Zack stepped onto the station, Delenn standing there. She smiled at once upon seeing him, but her face quickly reverted to a hesitant state. A small creature stood beside her, clicking it's tongue. He almost lost the courage to do what had to be done. But, then he saw Lyta's glorious face, and his resolve stiffened.

"Is that you, Zacllen?" she asked, stepping forward slowly.

"Yes, Satai," he bowed his head and held his fingers in a triangle without even thinking about it. Some things were too ingrained in him. "But my true name is Zack Allen."

"Would explain why they said your name was Zacllen," she said, now near him, "But my, how good you look! And you look, happy."

"Do I?" he asked, troubled.

"A little beside yourself, yes," she said, reaching up to touch his shoulder, "But, you look happy. Happier than I ever saw you."

"I must say," he admitted, "I never quiet believed what the rest of the Grey Council said about you looking different when you were younger."

"Some things have to be done," she said, "But, I hope you forgive me."

"What?" he asked, frowning, "What for?"

"For keeping the truth secret and for my part I played in the downfall of your race," she said, no tears, only a solemn manner to her demeanor, "Can you ever forgive me?"

"I did forgive you," he admitted, "And I hated myself for doing so. But I forgave you."

Delenn wrapped her arms around his waist and he felt unnerved. The creature was by her, looking darkly up at Zack.

"And I forgive you," she said.

"For what?" he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket as he wrapped his own arms around her.

"You've come here to kill me," she whispered, "But, it is a small price to pay for all I have killed."

Zack closed his eyes and felt tears flow down his face as he pressed a button and a dart flew out and struck Zathras in the neck. He choked on his own blood and very swiftly as dead. And then, the needle popped out the other end and he shoved it between her third and fourth rib-bone near her spine.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "But I can't lose her. Not again."

And he gently set her paralyzed body on the ground softly, making her as comfortable as possible. And, then, he turned and fled onto his ship to escape.

* * *

Only one Shadow ship was left. Two White Stars were destroyed, and another four out of action. The _Bel'reen_ had also suffered heavy damage. But, the remaining White Stars followed the enemy closely, plastering it with fire.

"Give us everything you got!" Sheridan bellowed across the bridge, "We can't allow them to escape!"

"We're giving it everything we've got," Lennier snapped back, "But they are outracing us."

"Don't give me excuses, Mr. Lennier," he shot back, "If we don't get them, we'll have a fleet of Shadow ships at _Zha'Valen'Venni_."

"Don't you think I know that?" he demanded.

Sheridan was just about to say something when in his mind, he heard Delenn's voice screaming _JOHN!_


	42. Walk With Valen

**Chapter 41: Walk With Valen**

Sheridan nearly ran into medlab, only to arrive to find Delenn lying in an isolation ward. Her body was held alive only by machinery. He looked at her slowly dying body and tears began to fall. What about the visions? Did not that creature say they would come to pass? Just not as he believed it would be? Then why was she dying then?

The child would never be born. Not if Delenn died.

Franklin stepped out of the isolab and sat down, wiping away the sweat that had gathered. He had found her, and had carried her. And for the past six hours he hadn't left her side as he tried to stabilize her. But, the look on his face was not encouraging.

"How is she?" he asked.

Franklin leaned forward and said, "I don't know. I've tried to heal her, but, she strong. I'll give her that. But strength alone won't save her."

"Will she die?" Sheridan asked.

"I don't-"

"Will she die?" he pressed.

Franklin threw his hands up in frustration. "Unless we can get some miracle cure," he snapped, "Yes, she will. Stop badgering me. I'm doing my bloody best."

Sheridan stared at Franklin. He wanted to say something angry. Rebuking. But, nothing came to his mind. Franklin was right. They had a bunch of Minbari healers here as well and if they were having troubles healing one of their own, that wasn't good.

"If only the Minbari had better equipment here," Sheridan muttered.

"It's not simply a question of her Minbari physiology," Franklin said, standing up and moving towards the faucet to wash some of the wear off.

"What do you mean?"

"Delenn isn't just Minbari," Franklin pointed out, turning the faucet on, "She's also got human DNA. It's a perfect balance between the two. Her DNA strands are half human RNA and half Minbari RNA. That's what's complicating matters. Whomever poisoned her knew exactly the right mixture."

"If it's a poison," Sheridan said, grasping at straws of hope, "Then you could make an antidote."

"And how would I do that?" he asked.

"Find out what combination of medicines would destroy it," he reasoned.

"Half of Human medicine is lethal to Minbari and our bodies automatically reject most Minbari medicine," Franklin informed him, "Imagine something that is deadly to Minbari being introduced to her DNA. Half of every single DNA strand would be destroyed basically. You'd watch her fall to pieces. Literally. And her human half would just reject it. So, you'd not only have body malfunction but you'd also have rejection as well. There'd be no way she could have it. It'd be basically giving her a can of rat poison to drink."

"And we don't want that," Sheridan conceded. He stared at his dying lover, suspended in wires and fluids. "How long does she have?"

"Months," Franklin said, "So a while yet. Enough time for me to look through every possible cure."

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"You already are," Franklin said at a weak jab at comedy, "Yeah, it's safe."

Sheridan didn't say thank you as he stepped into the isolation room, and stepped up to stand beside her bed, and slowly reach down to touch her beautiful face. Why would anyone do this to her? She was so caring, so...full of life. Well, that a ridiculous phrase. All people are full of life.


	43. Aftermath

**Chapter 42: Aftermath**

The Changing Emperor heard the reports from the front. For countless ages he had waited the chance to win his war. And for the most part the reports were promising. Rioting on Epsilon 3. The Selvans and Narns committing acts of barbarism that rivaled anything the Centauri had done. The Minbari in a brutal civil war. But the defeat at Zargista. That could not be so easily explained away.

It is a sad fact of war that so much depends on singular movements. Locations on maps. geological and strategic positioning. Better far if these had been the days of old. In those days one merely needed to charge at the enemy, beat him into submission and the day was won.

But now it was all about plans. Plans and schemes. Oh, the job of chaos was ever so tiresome. And tedious. But, someone had to do it.

His current form was that of a Nakaleen feeder. One of the grandest and simplest architects of chaos in the galaxy.

"This-John Sheridan," the Changing Emperor said, turning his head towards the great star map above him, "He is causing quite a stir."

"Yes my lord," a great creature, large with four arms and round head said to him, "Is that not how you wanted it?"

"Of course," he muttered, "But not like this. I was hoping he'd be rational and await the arrival of the other human ship. Wait until the Narns had given him ships. But no, the man was too impudent and decided to challenge my forces before either side were ready. I did not anticipate boldness, High Priest."

"He did lose forces, my lord," the High Priest said, his black robes having inset the writing of Za'Ha'Dum. They wrinkled blue and black.

"It doesn't matter if _he_ lost forces," the Changing Emperor snapped, "It's the fact he was successful. I underestimated him. Morden underestimated him. That's why I sent him, you know. Mr. Morden should undoubtedly be able to gauge his man. But, it would seem he failed in his job."

The High Priest looked down to the floor. Deep in thought. But, no ideas came to him so he looked up and asked, "What do you plan to do then?"

The Changing Emperor transformed before his eyes into a old Centauri male. The High Priest couldn't really tell the change. It was subtle but before he knew it, the Feeder was gone at the man was before him. He had his hands behind his back.

"We will extend a hand," he said.

"My lord?"

"We shall offer him something he cannot resist accepting," he said, "I want the Warlord on this job."

Out from behind the dark shadows stepped a Minbari warrior, garbed in the black robes of his people. But his armor was that of Earth's Samurai. Blood red with two dark slits for his eyes.

"Go Rashok of Dosh," the Emperor said, holding up his hand in command, "Prepare yourself."

The warrior bowed and turning away walked down the rust colored hallway.

* * *

The Crystal Queen listened to Kiltor as he reported the war so far. Their forces were ready to be launched in the final phase, but now she hesitated. Sheridan was a loose cannon. Why had he attacked Zargista? He should have waited. Waited until the Vorlons said it was time. But no, he listened to no one.

This was troubling. The Vorlon High Command had greater issues at hand then a band of adventurers led by a renegade. His attack had thrown the plans of the Crystal Queen and her advisors through a loop.

-He's done much damage to the enemy,- Kiltor half-heartedly reasoned -Our enemies are in no position for the offensive.-

-Sheridan Starkiller has made the Enemy cautious.- She reminded him. -We were going to trap them like so many spiders in their own webs when they all rushed to Zargista. But no, he decided to abandon the mission and go about fighting it without guidance.-

-You anticipated this.- The Highest General said. -That is why his subordinate was ordered to be healed by the Technomages. If we needed to, we could replace Sheridan.-

-But we cannot turn against him openly.- she reminded him. -He has too loyal a following among our own people. Even Kosh is taken with him.-

The two remained silent a second, taken into their own thoughts. So much was at stake. No one man was too great not to be removed. But, when a man has the support of the people. Then it's a real problem.

-Eventually he shall come asking Kosh for help to cure his lover,- she finally said. -We will not. And the Shadows will offer a cure, and he shall be forced to take it for sake of his lover. He shall go to Za'Ha'Dum. And he shall die.-

-As you say.- Kiltor bowed his head. -I obey.-


	44. Thus Spake Jeremiah

**Chapter 43: Thus Spake Jeremiah**

"I didn't say anything," the homeless man squealed, "Nothing to nobody!"

The man stood before him, injection yet another needle and making another muscle numb. The homeless man was blubbering, slobbering as the muscle by the right edge of his lip drooped down. Before him stood a member of Nightwatch, in a grey tailored suit with black arm band hugging the middle of his bicep.

"Who did you talk to?" he asked, again, using a soothing voice, like a parent trying to help a wayward child.

"I didn't talk to anyone," he sobbed.

"Jeremiah, Jeremiah," the man said, walking up and holding his face gently, "No need for that. Do not cry. I know this is paniful. And it makes me sad to have to do it. But, nature abhores two things. Vacuums and lies."

"I didn't-" tears streamed down his face into his scraggly beard.

"You didn't have to talk to anybody though," he said, "All you had to do was speak. You like speaking, don't you Jeremiah. Do you not say we are the universe made manifest? The Universe trying to figure out itself? Isn't the best way to figure out something is to talk about it, even out loud?"

"Yes," Jeremiah blinked, tears still gushing forth.

"You spoke out loud to figure it out," the Nightwatch man reasoned, "It's only natural. You did? Didn't you?"

Jeremiah didn't say anything, but wept even more. The man sighed and stepped back. He glanced at the pitiful figure strapped to the chair. This was a tough job. That's why Night Watch only had the strongest of constitutions do interrogations.

"I really hate doing this," he said, "But you leave me no choice."

He nodded to the other man and he injected yet another needle, causing another limb to go numb. The door opened behind him and a man stepped up to him and whispered in his ear. The news was important and it had to be attended to immediately.

He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped and said, "I think that's enough for now. Let him think on it a while."

* * *

"How goes the resistance boss?"

"As well as could be expected, Garibaldi," Bester said, the signal filled with static, "About a hundred building now are laid to waste, and we've gotten the fingers pointed at the government. Very few really expect it to be us."

"Any contact with Agent 13?" he asked.

"No," he shook his head, "No sign of Horn. But I don't want to try to go back to the Great Machine. Last time it nearly shredded me alive."

Garibaldi winced. He remembered the state Bester had been in after his encounter with the rogue Miss Kelsey in the Machine. It wasn't something he cared to see again. Not at all.

"How is your war going?" Bester asked.

"We scored a major victory against the Shadows recently," Garibaldi said, "Brining a bunch of the aliens around to pouring in troops. John's got a big plan. I think he can pull something big off."

"Just make sure not to get yourself killed," Bester said, "We've lost too many people already, and many more will die before this is all over."

"What about Talia?" he asked, "What about her?"

"She's going to die," Bester sighed, "Nothing that can be done about it."

* * *

The door to the hospital room burst open, and Night Watch personnel swarmed in, PPG's held high. The Night Watch man stepped inside, and saw the long, slender blond woman on the bed, a blanket pulled over her. He nodded to the men and they swooped in and grabbing her, carried her off. As they marched out, they walked over the bodies of the dead hospital attendants.


	45. Modifications and Other Devices

**Chapter 44: Modifications and Other Devices**

It was a dark time. That much is sure. Sheridan's fleet had grown quiet extensively, and battles were ragging all over the place. The underground on Centauri Prime was gaining headway, and G'Kar began to wonder if perhaps the whole idea about holding the planet until whomever this anointed Emperor would arise was simply impossible. New Geneva's cells were packed to overflowing and it was small wonder that many rioters were simply shot in the streets.

But, for all that, the war against the Minbari was full in swing. And the time was approaching.

"So far we've been mainly sticking to the outer colonies," Marrain said, sitting in the chain opposite General Thompson, "But this I think will interest you."

He held up a small data crystal and inserted it into a small slot at the computer. On screen a world with five moons appeared, no of like size.

"Kordat IV," he named it, "It's our biggest agricultural colony. If you plan on hitting Minbar and destroying the credibility to Kalain's leadership, you must hit this colony. If he cannot defend it, he will be disgraced in the eyes of his people and the people's support shall be gained to our side."

"If you think it prudent," Thompson said, running a hand over his short curly grey hair, "I liked the idea we spoke of earlier."

"Which one are you referring to?"

"The Norsai," Thompson reminded him, "You said that would be less heavily defended. I'm sure your Kalain will have the defenses bristling over Kordat IV."

"That's why we should hit it," Marrain reasoned, "Badly mangle his forces. We Minbari do not retreat once we enter a fight. We could do much damage to him. Soften up his forces for when we go to Minbar."

Thompson smiled grimly. "Minbar," he said with a wicked delight, "I look forward to teaching that planet the price of destroying Earth."

"No," Marrain said, staring harshly at him, "You shall no attack the planet itself."

"I don't see why not," Thompson retorted, "Your people destroyed our world. We should gain vengeance for it."

"Believe me, General," Marrain stated, "You do not want to oppose me on this. I am a dangerous man to trifle with."

"So am I," Thompson replied.

"Oh really?" Marrain snorted, "You of all people aren't a genius. Not even a good strategist. You success lies mainly in your ships. I have made all the plans, and you have simply followed them. Don't try me, Thompson."

Thompson glared at him, but settled back, letting his eyes drop. "Fine," he conceded, "We'll do it your way. We will hit Kordat IV and not attack Minbar herself."

But even as they went over the plans for the assault, Thompson's wheels in his head turned. Thinking of plans and schemes. Yes, perhaps this could work to his advantage.

* * *

Sheridan stepped up to Kosh's quarters. No, there was no lesson today. But, he still needed to talk to Kosh. On a most important matter. A very urgent matter. He pushed the button to the door chime.

"It's Sheridan," he said, a breathing mask on his face, "I need to talk to you."

The door hissed open and he stepped inside the methane filled room. He remembered talking to Franklin once and he said that when he had helped fill in the atmosphere of Kosh's quarters, it had felt like the air itself was heavy. And indeed, as he stepped through it, he felt like he was going through snow.

The encounter-suit was off to the side, it's helmet raised from the encounter-suit a foot or so. Behind a divide was a glowing ball of light and Sheridan wondered if perhaps he'd see what Kosh really looked like. But, Kosh did not move from there.

"Delenn is dying, Kosh," he said, waiting for a second before continuing. "While I don't doubt Franklin's ability as a doctor, he's not making any headway to finding a cure. And, well, she's one of The Ones. Whatever that means. Could you cure her?"

-Perhaps- Kosh said, the divider glowing, Sheridan guessing it had translation nodes in the glass.

"Will you cure her?" Sheridan asked.

"No," came the answer.

"No you won't?" he frowned. "Why not?"

-We must not interfere- Kosh replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheridan demanded.

-It is not our way to interfere in who lives and who dies- came the cryptic reply.

"Bulls-t!" Sheridan said, storming up to the glass divider. "Did you not say we were the ones to lead this fight? And now you abandon us? Why did you put us through the whole thing with your d-n Inquisitor if you won't protect those who serve you? Come on now, are you simply too cowardly to admit you are without feeling?"

-Step back- the divider glowed darkly and the room seemed to darken. Kosh's voice seemed to take on a hard edge.

"No, I won't!" Sheridan said, grabbing the edge of the divider, "I fight this war for you, and you've done absolutely nothing! Nothing besides take me on trips and tell me to fight legends. Aren't you a legend? Aren't you!"

There was a flash of brilliant light and Sheridan stumbled backwards, the divider tumbling in the air behind him and it landed with a thud on the ground. Before Sheridan was a massive ball of light. No shape of form could be seen, but he could hear a massive thumping as if it were wings. The air seemed to crackle with the intensity from the electricity from the being of light.

-Leave. Now!- Sheridan had no idea how Kosh was translating the language without an encounter-suit. But he was terrified.

"No!" he said, "Not until you give me a reason!"

-Disobediant!-

"Up yours!"

He felt himself slam against the wall, his cheek splitting and blood trickling down his face. He staggered forward, barely able to stand.

"Now the Kosh shows his true colors. I hear you have a saying," Sheridan said, now angry, "Understanding is a three edge sword. You know what I say? Put your money where your mouth is."

He felt himself slam against the wall, but this time, he felt his windpipes closing. Kosh came closer and closer, like a predator closing in for the kill. He was soon so close he felt static electricity running through him and could feel the heat coming from the ball of light.

"Go ahead," Sheridan managed, "Kill me. What's one more death? What's one more life lost in your glorious and righteous cause?"

He remained there a few seconds, feeling the rage of the Vorlon. And then, slowly the pressure was released, and somehow it felt like fingers being withdrawn. He slid to the ground, and Kosh zipped to his encounter-suit and soon it was full animated. He looked up, fearful at Kosh.

-You have been deemed too chaotic- Kosh said, turning to the side.

"What?" he asked, slowly pushing himself up, using the wall as support.

-The Crystal Queen has deemed your actions are chaos and not order- Kosh said. -And Delenn is immaterial.-

"D-n her then," Sheridan grumbled, "What do you say?"

Kosh was silent for a few seconds. -The pebble cannot order the mountain to move.- he said. -Sinclair is the One Who Was. Delenn is the One Who Is. You are the One Who Will Be.-

"If we are," Sheridan said, the pieces finally clicking, "And Sheridan was the one that lead the fight long ago, and I am I guess the leader of the future, why is Delenn, who is supposed to lead now, being allowed to die. Why?"

Kosh was silent a second before he replied. -You cannot be killed by us without the support leaving- he replied, -Delenn is the beginning.-

"Of what?" Sheridan asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

-Your punishment.-


	46. The Devil's Bargain

**Chapter 35: The Devil's Bargain**

Sheridan couldn't sleep anymore. For days now he'd paced back and forth over the floor of his quarters. Maybe he'd get an hour rest at most. His hygiene went downhill and he sat with a brooding sense on the observation deck. Takashima and Ivanova were both worried about him. And they went to the one person who might have been able to help.

"I'm not sure I understand fully what you want from me," Lennier said, sitting on a catwalk that ran over the main corridor, his legs hanging over the side and dangling.

"He's much more depressed then when he found out Delenn was poisoned and dying," Ivanova said, having somehow managed to sit down, relieved that she could set the crutches down for a while, "Are you sure it's just he's sad? I mean, you could talk to him. He seems to confide in you."

"Starkiller not only is losing is love," Lennier said, glancing at Ivanova, "He's also fighting a war against a relentless enemy. Not only that but his race, already shattered by misunderstandings, has turned upon itself. So, of course he's not happy."

"It seems deeper than that though," Takashima said, "Seems to have started last week. Almost as if something has happened to shake his faith."

"I don't think-" Lennier began but Ivanova put her hand on his shoulder.

"Listen," she said, "We know you have pledged to protect him. And we understand that. But, how can he be expected to succeed like this? We need him up to the task. And if there is anything we can do to help him, we need to know."

Lennier quickly glanced around, and noting that there was only a few people around, but none of them focusing on this small group, he wiggled his finger in his approximation of a "come closer". The two women moved in close and he took one last quick glance.

"Last week he went to go see Kosh," he said in his low tone, "He mentioned to me he needed to see if the Vorlons could help Delenn. I waited outside down the hall a ways. Very shortly after the door closed, I heard something a kin to an explosion in there. A couple minutes later, Sheridan came, his cheek cut and bleeding, and his neck bruised. He looked...scared. And I haven't seen him like that since his time on Sinoval's ship."

"I was wondering where that cut came from," Takashima frowned, "So, Kosh attacked him?"

Lennier shrugged. "Sheridan's wouldn't talk about it. For all I know, he tripped and fell in there. Or else, Kosh tried to kill him."

Ivanova shook her head. "If Kosh wanted him dead, then I'm sure John would be dead."

"Agreed," Lennier said, "But let us not speak of such things."

And while they might not have spoken of such things, such things entered their mind with an unsettling power and force.

* * *

"We've got a shuttle asking for permission to dock," Naomi Zento said from her station, "And they would like to have a word with you in the Council Chambers."

"Who are they?" Sheridan asked, not looking up from his console board.

"They won't say," she said, "But they said they wanted to talk to you specifically."

Sheridan looked over at Takashima and raising an eyebrow stood and headed out of the command center. As he walked he lifted up his link and called both Garibaldi and Marcus to meet him in the Council Chambers. As they walked Lennier asked, "Should we call Kosh?"

Sheridan was used to Lennier's sudden speaking and no longer was startled by it. But at the thought of Kosh, and the memory of his encounter, he hardened his eyes. There was many people he could contact, but not him.

"No," he said, "We will not."

And he strode down towards the Council Chambers. Garibaldi came up beside him, his hands in his pant pockets. "What's up?" he asked, "Trouble?"

"Maybe."

They entered the chamber and spotted Marcus standing on one end of the room, his denn'bok extended in his hand and holding it in front of him, facing a red samurai warrior. They entered slowly, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Marcus?" Sheridan asked, approaching slowly, seeing a wild fire burn in Marcus' eyes.

"It is Rashok of Dosh," Marcus said.

"Who?" he asked, but he could feel Lennier also stiffen and reach for his own fighting pike.

"So, he's a Looney tune wearing armor like it's Halloween," Garibaldi said, his eyebrows raised, "What's the matter with that?"

"He was at Valen's side-" Lennier began but never finished the sentence.

"And betrayed him?" the Red Warrior asked, his voice a deep sound, like the sound of heavy gongs on high mountains being struck by monks, "That I died at Yelish Mountain on Kah-Markab in defiance of the laws set forth? The one who Valen himself called the water around the rock of Nukeen's strength? Yes, I am he."

"Wait..." Sheridan said, "I don't buy your story. Valen lived over a thousand years ago. And supposedly you died. Lennier told me the story. His other lieutenant killed you."

"As you can see," he laughed, "I got better. I come from my masters."

"And who is your masters?" Sheridan demanded.

"Oh," the warrior said, the mask on his helmet hiding any facial expression from those in the room, "Uninitiated such as yourselves are not permitted to hear his holy name. But, my masters have sent me with a message."

"Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth," Marcus snapped, "In Valen's Name, I am Entil'zha!"

"You are a child playing at being soldier," Rashok laughed, his voice mocking, "But I came not to speak to you, he who knows not whom he calls by name. I came for Sheridan."

"Speak your piece," Sheridan said, although he kept himself guarded.

"But this is not wise!" Marcus argued.

"I must agree with Ranger One," Lennier said, "He is-"

"I will let him speak," Sheridan said, "His words have no power over me."

"Do they not?" Rashok muttered so lowly almost they couldn't hear them. "You know the way of command, I give you that."

"Don't patronize me," Sheridan glowered, "Be out with your words."

"A man who gets straight to business," Rashok nodded stiffly, "Very good, Captain. I can heal Delenn. I bring the antidote to the poison which burns in her veins. I can save her, Sheridan. But there is a price to pay."

"And what price is that?" Sheridan asked wearily.

"You must come to Za'Ha'Dum and hear our side of the story," Rashok said.

Sheridan waited for more but nothing came. He frowned. Was that all? They just wanted him to hear their side of the story? There had to be some stratagem. Some tactics or plans involved.

"I could say yes and then not after you healed her," he pointed out.

"You won't."

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?"

"We are both warriors," Rashok stated, "And we both follow the same code of honor."

He could feel the others looking at him, waiting for his inevitable no. But, Delenn...she couldn't die. And besides, he had business of his own on there.

"Fine," he said, "I will go to Za'Ha'Dum."


	47. The Twilight of Kalain

**Chapter 46: The Twilight of Kalain**

Kalain and Shakiri sat in council, listening to the advice of the Shadow agent. The man was Minbari, a man by the name of Forell. He had been in service to the Shadows a long time. And as the battle above Kordat IV was joined and the voices of thousands were being extinguished, Forell weaved his web of words. His words of wisdom that eroded away the barriers that surrounded their reason.

"The Human General has not engaged the forces of Kordat IV," he said, his words like a hissed whisper in dark places, "And he comes here."

"And what should we do?" Kalain asked, his will completely subjected to the voice that spoke before him.

Kalain had become so dependant and subjected to the words and whims of Froell that he would not bath unless he was asked. He would not sleep unless prompted to. He would not eat or drink unless it was required of him. His will and desires were all erased, and the husk of the man who sat there was filthy. His clothes had not been changed in weeks now. Skin hung loosely all over and his eyes were bloodshot to the point that they seemed to be balls of blood in his eye-sockets. His well trimmed beard was scraggly and long. His skin was cracked in many places.

"We shall send away all the ships surrounding Minbar," Forell said, "And you shall welcome the martyrdom about to be bestowed upon you."

"No," Shakiri mumbled, trying to stand up. So long had he sat that his muscles were atrophied by now, but he still had at least some will left.

He collapsed forward as the blade from the Kilgrain assassin cut through the back of his neck, severing his spinal column and cutting deep until only a tiny strand of skin connected the head from the body. As blood flowed from him across the floor, Forell whispered, "Gather your people in every town square for a public speech. Then, as they wait, you shall address them they are about to join the gods of old. As you speak, the Humans shall bombard the planet and all will be killed. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said, muttering.

* * *

"Any word from General Thompson?" Marrain asked, watching the battle progress. The battle was a hard fought affair, and no matter how this would turn up, there would be many dead Minbari.

"Nay lord," Shakat, of the Warrior Caste said, "I do not like it. He should have joined the battle nearly an hour ago."

"Agreed," Marrain said, watching two of the Sharlin class cruisers of his disable one of Kalain's, "Go, Shakat. I need you to go onto the _Solaris_ and head at once to Minbar. Take the _Takari_ and _Ingata_ with you."

Shakat was a little hesitant. Not the best trait for a warrior to have. And he seemed to show it a good deal of the time. And he seemed never to have much a sense of urgency. But, he carried much weight. His title as Clan Leader was well deserved, in its own way.

"Why Minbar?" he asked, "And why all three? That's a third of our reserves."

"Because," Marrain said, feeling a cold fire in his bosom, "If I am right, I'll need you to stop Thompson."

"From what?"

"Taking revenge."

* * *

Jake Thompson stood by Commander Gilas as they dropped out of hyperspace. They all took a moment to look upon the planet before them.

Minbar. Homeworld of a race over a thousand years more advanced. It was hard to imagine that the cool blue and white planet before them could breed such a cold-hearted race as the Minbari. But, it had. And while none on the ship had any particular quarrel with the planet itself, they did have to make an example of it.

"Scans are showing no enemy ships around the planet," the conn officer reported, "Almost as if they rolled out the welcoming mat."

"No, they didn't," the General said, his voice having a degree of cruel satisfaction, "They just left the front door open. Take us in and blast the planet to pieces. Communications."

"Yes sir?" the man at that station replied.

"Send the following signal," he said, standing up and heading towards the officer and handing him a pad.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Just send it on the specified frequency," the General said, putting a large hand on the small man's shoulder.

"Aye sir."

* * *

Deep in hyperspace, several massive Drakh motherships powered up their hyper-jump engines and windows to normal space opened.

* * *

They gathered by the thousands. In the small city of Drogani near the southern polar ice cap, parents gathered their children about them. In Tuzanor, people gathered around the Imperial Palace. In Yedor, they amassed near a giant communications relay. And before them, in holographic form, they could see the disgusting and decaying form of their tyrant.

"People of Minbar," he said, his voice booming, "Today is a great day. We wash away the sins of old in fire and join the gods of old in their celestial temples. Even now the angels of mercy come to extend a hand. Giving us what we need to turn from our lives of sin and shame and go towards something better. Behold, the vengeance of the Earthers!"

And with the sound of a rushing wind, the first missile struck the main plaza of Yedor, killing three hundred tightly packed people. The massacre had begun.

* * *

The Minbari Sharlin cruisers dropped out of hyperspace and arrived, watching as the human ships, along with another race they had no knowledge of, continued to pummel the planet. Shakat could hear the terrified pleas of the planet, the insane amount of gibberish that clogged up the channels.

"What are your order, my lord?" the Alyt of the ship asked, staring at the man, hoping for some direction, "My lord? My lord, what do you order?"

But Shakat could only stare at the devastation before him. Paralyzed beyond the ability to do anything.

* * *

"The _Aggressor_ has not engaged and attacked the planet," the conn officer reported, "They are not answering any of our hails."

Captain Thompson couldn't necessarily blame Captain Mandala. This was a pretty bad affair, destroying the planet below. Nearly an hour had passed, and their weapons systems had been going so fast, they'd have to ease up the bombardment soon. He could see the guilt in his first officers eyes as they extinguished the life of some innocent below.

"What of the _Arrestor?" _General Thompson asked.

"Captain Eckland is firing, but at a much slower pace then what she is capable of," he reported.

"Having troubles with her conscience is she?" the old man snorted, "Keep up the bombardment as long as possible. Once we are unable to fire anymore, tell the Drakh they can go ahead."

"Go ahead with what?" Captain Thompson asked.

"Nothing to worry yourself about Captain," Thompson said, "What of those Minbari cruisers?"

"They are backing off," the report came.

"Very good," the General muttered, "very good."

* * *

Kalain watched with dark delight as the bombardment destroyed yet another building, sending rubble flying all over the place. Many had fled inside, but not before hundred had been killed. His palace was in rubble, and the bombardment was slackening. He wasn't sure if the Humans were running out of firepower or if they were moving the bombardment.

"A glorious day," Forell said, standing by him, "Is it not?"

Kalain took a deep breath of the smoke rising from multiple fires and the sweet stench of blood. Yes, this was what he had been born for. Yet another explosion hit a bridge and it collapsed, and he wondered if any of those pieces of rubble were cowering people. What did it matter though?

"Yes," he said, "It is beautiful."

"You have done well in service to the Masters of Chaos," Forell patted him on the shoulder, "They are most proud."

"I live to serve," Kalain said, although, he could feel a fog closing around his vision.

"It is time Kalain," Forell said.

"For what?" he asked, no thought of his own forming in his mind.

"To rest," and he felt the blade stinking into his heart. But, he didn't mind. It had been so long since he had felt anything that it was good to feel the pain.


	48. The Noblest of Weaknesses

**Chapter 47: The Noblest of Weaknesses**

Rashok held a small vial in his hand and held it out to Doctor Franklin. Franklin slowly took it, and looking at it very closely, move it to some computer equipment.

"I'll just have to run a few tests," he said, then directly at Rashok, "If you don't mind."

Rashok waved a dismissive hand. "You are a healer who has charges under your care," he said, "As is your right. I shall be meditating in the cell that has been given me." He turned and headed off towards the corridor, Anla'Shok and Remnant security following him.

Sheridan's eyes followed him out before returning to look at his beloved. No, she did not deserve to die. She deserved a life of enrichment. Much more than that barbarian. No matter what the Vorlons said.

"Check it thoroughly, Stephan," he prayed, "Make absolutely certain."

Franklin nodded. "Don't worry, John," he assured him, "I'll not let anything happen to her."

* * *

Marcus sat in his private sanctum, his legs crossed and going deep into meditations. The title and position of Entil'zha not only gave him control over the Anla'shok, the Rangers of Valen, but it also bestowed some gifts. One was the gift of insight and prophecy. Not like the ancient prophets of old who could foretell the future. But, he could see the strings and waves of time. He could see the bending and shapes of it.

He could almost touch it.

Bri'marri stood outside his sanctum, standing beside the human woman. Commander Susan Ivanova. She had pressured him into taking her here, going so far as to say, "Ivanova is right. Ivanova is always right. Ivanova is God. And if you don't let me go see him, I will personally tear your lungs out!" Not that he had ever believed she could, but he was not willing to tempt fate.

"I do not believe this entirely wise," he said, "Ranger One allows none to enter his sanctum. He prefers to spend his time alone at such moments."

"As I already told you," she said, "I don't care. I just need to clear a few things with him. Unless you will tell me more."

Bri'marri shook his head. "No," he said, "I will not. It is not my place."

"Then I will enter," she said, and Bri'marri stepped aside, and she stepped through the hatch that opened ever so slowly.

"Who disturbs my sanctuary?" Marcus demanded, not coming fully out of the meditative state.

"We really need to talk."

His eyes burst open.

Corwin walked slowly down the long corridor. It helped him build his leg muscles again. Miss Musante was on his mind, as it was a bunch. No, he shook his head. He had a love. And he was missing her something fierce.

His link beeped and he lifted his hand, and pressed the button. "Corwin here," he said.

"Hey David," Garibaldi's voice came over the link, "I've got that connection set up."

Corwin closed his eyes and felt much stress fall away. "Thank you," he said, "I can't thank you enough."

"Don't try," Garibaldi advised, "But it's only going to be available for another thirty minutes. So, you better snap to it."

* * *

"I have obligations, Susan."

"To whom? These Rangers? Come on Marcus, you are lying."

"I've never lied to you."

"You just are avoiding answering my question. Why did you follow me around on Vega Seven?"

"I didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Why?"

"You are my friend?"

"Uh-huh. And what about traveling who knows how far to get help for me?"

"Didn't have much a choice in the matter of where and when you'd get help."

"Then why did you leave me there?"

"It was a price to pay for getting you healed."

"Why did you accept that price? I am not worth it."

"You are."

"Why have you been avoiding me ever since I first approached you with this question?"

* * *

The connection was coming through, and Corwin was feeling like a wound-up spring. The love of his life would soon show herself. And sure enough, the screen turned on, and he could see a tired looking Elizabeth Lochley.

"Hey babe," he said.

"David?" she asked, squinting her eyes, "Where are you? I went to see you in the hospital one day and you were gone. Never mind, how are you?"

"Feeling fine, Elizabeth," he said, smiling at the face he hadn't seen for months, "I realized we never finished that conversation."

"Which one?" she asked, looking quite serious.

"Well..." he stammered, "You know...I had asked you to marry me."

"Oh..." she said, squinting, "We did? Ahhh, don't be like that David. Of course I know what you are talking about."

A huge sense of relief swept through him. He never could tell when she was joking or not. Good thing she was.

"My question still stands," he said, "Will you marry me?"

"Of course," she smiled, "Where are you? I want to see you beforehand."

"I'm in the old Markab system," he said, "The one that was wiped out. Heavens Elizabeth, I can't realize they are all dead. Before I...was nearly changed into Shadow tech, they were still alive."

"Wait..." she held up a hand, "The Markab system? What are you doing there?"

"Oh," Corwin said, realizing she didn't know, "I'm with Sheridan."

"Sheridan?" she asked slowly, "John Sheridan? The rebel leader?"

Corwin was getting confused. He might not be the best compass for gauging a woman's reaction. But was he sensing, alarm?

"Yeah," he said.

"How can you?" she asked angrily, "He's a rebel. He's leading troops against our own government! Against our allies."

"Better that then be with them," Corwin said, "Look what they did to me! I lost almost an entire year of my life because of what they did to me. And I told him when we first signed up with the Shadows that they were no good."

"Please tell me this is a joke," Lochley said, "We swore to defend the Remnant."

"From both foreign and domestic threats," Corwin agreed, "And I think Clark is a threat. We must stop him."

Lochley was silent and for a few seconds there was an uncomfortable edge in the air. She then let out a sigh. She opened her mouth to say something, but thinking better of it shook her head.

"We are over, David," she said, "And if I ever see you again, I will be forced to kill you. So, I am sorry."

"I'm sorry too," David said, feeling the wind knocked from him and he leaned against the wall. The screen turned off, her accusing eyes boring into his soul. Corwin stared at the vidscreen, hoping to turn back time. But, when it didn't happen, he walked to the couch and sat down, and prepared for the piercing sorrow and grief to come later.

* * *

Marcus stood there, Ivanova all but in his face. For nearly an hour they had been like this, arguing back and forth. He couldn't help but nearly collapse at the intensity of her eyes. But, no, he was Anla'Shok. He would not be...so...easily...overcome.

"Tell me," she said, "Do you love me?"

Marcus looked down. No, he was not meant for happiness. Everything around him died. He had seen that and it had been beaten in his mind continually. The path of Entil'zha was a lonely one. He must be alone.

"Marcus. Marcus, look at me."

Slowly he looked and he could see her looking in his eyes. It seemed as if their souls touched then. Her hand was on his arm, and he could feel the thrill inside of him. But, no. There was too much. Too much to do. And she was too important for what would befall her if they ever loved.

"I can't," he said, "I just can't."

He pulled away and walked out, heading deeper into his sanctum and finding the back way, bolted through it.


	49. Rebels

**Chapter 48: Rebels**

The Narn troop transport lumbered down the street, Centauri scattering to give it the road. Every once in a while, a Narn PPG would stick out from it and a shot would be fired. Sometimes it would be people in the crowd that would fall, sometimes, family pets and sometimes it was signs or other structures. Coarse language rose from there, every type of vulgar insult being spoken.

The transport was turning down a street and from out a small doorway stepped a small Centauri male. He spotted it had joined a column of nearly thirty Narns on foot. He held up his link and spoke, "Now."

The entire length of road erupted with explosives that had been planted in the road. The shattered rubble being thrown up ripped through the underside of the transport and clogged the machines, causing it to explode. Most of the Narns were killed instantaneously, but a few tried to drag themselves out. But the explosion had been a signal, and crawling out of alleyways and buildings, they killed every wounded Narn. Within seconds the job was over and they melted back into the shadows.

As military ambulances swooped into the area accompanied by heavy Narn military forces, he slipped away down the street.

* * *

"That was dangerous, Londo," Malachi reprimanded him as he stepped back into their underground headquarters, "We cannot afford to lose you."

"I'm always lost," he waved his hand dismissively, "And besides, it was a morale booster for our rebels. Any word from Vir yet?"

Malachi looked slowly away. No, he did not approve of his future would-be emperor risking his life so. But, he could not stop him and shook his head. "No word from him yet," he said, "I really hope nothing bad befalls him."

"Vir has a good heart," Mollari said, stepping up to one of the bottles of brivari they had managed to steal, "As such, he will not be harmed."

"I hope you are right Londo," Malachi said, with hesitation.

* * *

The palace was a much more solemn place then it had ever been before. Narn guards stood over the cowering servants. Both Lord and commoner alike were made to clean the palace until it was pristine clean. Many Centauri now bore lashes across their bodies, their clothing cut from the whip.

As Vir stepped through the halls, he saw Centauri being beaten brutally for even the smallest infraction. Narns towered over him, and at least one spit at him as he walked up to the Throne Room. The two surviving Royal Guardsman stood there, their eyes filled with fear and hatred. They let him pass into the throne room unmolested.

Inside the heads of all the guardsmen were nailed to the pillars that held up the ceiling. The Royal Court was in fear and the Lady Consort was nowhere to be seen. But Cartagia sat in his throne, the massive G'Kar standing behind the throne.

"Ah!" Cartagia said joyfully, "Come! Come!"

"Where-where is the Lady Celes?" Vir asked as he stepped forward.

"She is servicing the Narn guards," Cartagia said with a smile, "They said she could live as long as the Narns got certain...privileges with her."

"And you allow that?" Vir's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Cartagia shrugged. "And why not?" he asked, "Listen Vir, we all must do our part to survive. That's what Centauri do. We conquer, even when conquered."

G'Kar snorted behind the throne. "Oh, have you been introduced to WarMaster G'Kar yet?" Cartagia asked, tossing his head towards the Narn, "A delightful old chap, to be sure."

"Of...of course," Vir frowned. Well, who was he to argue? Cartagia was Emperor, but to allow all this? This was not good.

"So what brings you here?" Cartagia asked, lifting a cup to his mouth.

"I have been sent by...the pe-people of Jaristanzine in the Mou-mountains to ask, well, why the food shipments have been sent," Vir asked.

Cartagia shrugged. "That's not my job to see to where the food gets distributed," he said, annoyed by the very idea, "That's for the Narns to decide who gets food and who doesn't."

"Al-al-alright," he said, turning to face G'Kar, Vir asked, "Why haven't the food shipments been sent there? Sure, their only Centauri, but they need to eat too. And you want to exert as much control without fighting right? That would help you."

"What do I care for a few hundred beggars in the mountains?" G'Kar said.

"Well, I would-"

"You Centauri did the same thing to my people," G'Kar reminded him, "They'll get food next week, and not before."

Vir frowned. "I'm sorry if I don't, you know, understand the politics of conquest," he said, "But, I'd assume that living slaves would do, well, more work then dead one."

G'Kar stared at him. "What should I care who lives and who dies?"

"Because revolts do start when a people starve," Vir pointed out.

"Then it gives us a legitimate excuse to kill them," G'Kar said.

"Oh, I see," Vir said, "Never mind that you have roughly only ten thousand troops here. And the Kha'Ri isn't going to send anymore for months. And there are, oh, three billion people here. Do you have bullets for them all? Isn't that bad thinking for a conquering general? Or are you staying only temporarily?"

G'Kar didn't know if the man was purely stupid or a psychotic piece of scum. He walked behind the throne and stepped up to him slowly, drawing his full height up. He towered over the small man by about a couple inches, but the Centauri did not back down. Infact, he seemed to grow more defiant.

"I could use a man like you," he nodded, "I'll send the food. But there is a price."

"And that is?" Vir asked.

"You become my advisor to these people," G'Kar nodded.

Vir blinked a couple times. "I..."

"Just say yes and be done with it."

"Alright."


	50. Z-Minus 1

**Chapter 49: Z-Minus 1**

Mr. Morden awoke to yet another fine day in December on Epsilon 3. There was so much to do. Clark had been doing his job beautifully, and already about a thousand random people had been killed along with about three hundred rioters. Sure, the attacks weren't decreasing and in fact increasing, but sooner or later he'd find Alfred Bester and hang him.

He was still trying to find a way to penetrate the defenses around the Great Machine. The Great Machine was the heart and power of Epsilon 3, and he would never fully control it until he had it. But, there was time for that later. Now, he had something different to attend to.

There was no further need for General Richard Franklin. He nodded to the Kilgrain assassin who at once flickered out of the door, heading down to road which would lead to the General's office. Franklin was still not under his control, but as long as he had Ryan Hague, he still controlled the loyal elements of the military. Within seconds he felt the grim satisfaction of the assassin as the throat of Franklin's body now sported a new opening and as his guards rushed in to see what had happened the assassin vanished.

He stepped out of his Spartan quarters and headed down the hallway to the janitor's closet. He opened the door and stepped through the holographic projection of janitorial cleaning supplies. Once inside and the door shut, he said aloud, "Red 5." The turbolift went down into the secret compound that had been built underneath the apartment complex, unknown to anyone else. After all, wasn't this just a cleaning closet?

The turoblift finally came to a stop and he exited into a dark basement level, the darkness illuminated by red lighting. He wondered if this was how hell was supposed to look like. But, he stepped forward towards a back room, which led into a giant laboratory. Inside, was a massive round chamber, with clear glass. Red light flooded through the room as Zener scientists went about their work, Drakh standing off to the side. Inside was a naked woman, hooked up to tubes.

"How goes the procedure?" he asked.

"She has moderate physic power," the head Drakh breathed out harshly, "But, with the child, her power is doubled."

"So you'll be able to maximize the power and improve upon it?" Morden asked, "We need this telepath to battle any telepath that she comes across."

"My methods are perfect," the Drakh said a little defensively, "She will be ours."

"Good," he said, resting his hand on the chamber and admiring the body of Talia Winters, "We will need her for the upcoming phase of the war."

* * *

"I guess it worked," Sheridan said, as Franklin bent over Delenn and injected her with the drug. Rashok had given him instructions on how to administer the drug, which would take five equal injections over a twenty-four hour period.

"Yeah," Franklin said, as he pulled the needle out, "She's already on the mend and this was only the second one."

Sheridan nodded and stood there, staring at Delenn. So much was running through his mind right now. All the different decisions that had led to this moment. How had this happened? How had he come to love her so? Was it always destined? Had he really loved her when she had been simply The One who came in his dreams? Or was it really nothing until they had met? Or did it not happen until after Anna died?

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are you going to go through with it?" Franklin asked, "Going to Za'Ha'Dum."

Sheridan nodded. "I gave my word," he said, "And I have to follow through with that."

Franklin nodded. "Understandable," he said, "Is there a message you'd like me to leave for Delenn?"

"No," Sheridan said, "I'm actually leaving it with Lennier."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, "I didn't think he'd agree to stay."

"I gave him the old Han Solo treatment," he said, "And told him he had to protect her."

"Did you really use an old Star Wars line on Lennier?" Franklin chuckled, "That's odd. As long as you didn't use 'Luke, I am your father'. Hated that line."

"Worst there ever was," Sheridan agreed.

* * *

Sheridan stepped down the hallway towards the docking bay. He was ready to face the music as it were. He had come prepared for a fight. As he passed a corridor he was startled.

-You have forgotten.- Kosh said, coming up behind him.

"Forgotten what?" Sheridan asked.

-If you go to Za'Ha'Dum- the Vorlon said, -You will die.-

"It has to be done," Sheridan said, "I'm going there to fight them, Kosh. You said I needed to learn to fight legends. How can I fight them unless I enter the cave of the beast?"

-Then I shall come with you.- Kosh stated.

Sheridan stood there, staring at the Vorlon. He had learned so much, and he really felt that Kosh did care. Even despite their run in. And the words of the Oracle still rang in his mind that he could trust Kosh.

"Wouldn't want it any other way," Sheridan said, and he slowed his pace so Kosh could keep up.

Rashok spotted the Vorlon coming alongside with Sheridan and he stepped forward. He stopped in front of them and held up his hand. Sheridan wished he would take off his helmet. It'd allow him to read facial expressions.

"The Vorlon is not permitted to come to Za'Ha'Dum," he said.

"He's coming," Sheridan said, "And that is final."

Rashok reached his hand up to one of his two curved swords and grabbing the handle began to drag it.

"No Vorlon will set foot on Za'Ha'Dum," he declared.

-Out of the way.-

Rashok flew backwards and smashed against one of the landing struts. Not enough to kill, but enough to stun. Sheridan stepped up to him and grabbing him by the arms pulled him onto the shuttle, the Vorlon stepping onto the shuttle. The ship seemed to scream in pain as the Vorlon entered the ship.

Soon the ship was departed, and entered hyperspace. And meanwhile, waiting for them to leave, was a massive fleet of Shadow ships.


	51. Za'Ha'Dum

**Chapter 50: Za'Ha'Dum**

Many thoughts passed through John Sheridan's mind as they traversed the dark and murky paths of hyperspace. He had come, not as simply an emissary of peace. He had brought his PPG with him, and he'd be ready. In fact, he carried on his person a weapon of great destructive power. A thermal nuclear device that had the power of five atomic bombs in a small cylinder roughly the size of a small grenade. The only thing he found on Kah'Markab he had willingly stolen.

The Markab would be avenged. Kosh had said nothing the entire trip, preferring to knock out the renegade Minbari each time he came to. After the third time, Sheridan was wondering if Kosh was getting a kick out of it. Whatever it was, it did make Sheridan happy. For a time.

* * *

Rashok awoke as the shuttle exited hyperspace over the Shadow homeworld of Za'Ha'Dum. He hurried to the console to send out the confirmation codes to the planet down below. It would not do to have his shuttle being blasted out of space. There was no choice now. The Vorlon was coming to his homeworld.

Sheridan looked down at the dead red world before him and sighed. Yes, it looked exactly like what Kosh had shown him. The codes cleared and the shuttle began its descent, heading closer and closer, the planet filling up the entire viewscreen.

Soon, the shuttle landed on a flat platform, red dust being kicked up as the engines as they shut down. A quick scan showed the environment was not breathable, and so Sheridan grabbed a breathing mask and covered his face, but noted that Rashok did not. Perhaps the mask of his helmet had one built in. Or perhaps his anatomy had been changed to suit the Shadows needs. Either way, they soon were outside of the ship and Sheridan could almost feel a sigh of relief from the ship once Kosh was off, following closely to Sheridan.

They soon entered a small hatchway and the door closed behind Sheridan and Kosh once they had stepped inside. Rashok pointed to a small sliding counter.

"This section of the city was built with humans and Minbari in mind," he assured him, "It is safe to take off your mask."

"Why not you then?" Sheridan asked, "Why don't you take your off?"

"What is the saying?" Rashok said with a hint of his voice of humor, "My house, my rules? Come now. And give me your gun."

Sheridan was taking off his mask and when he didn't automatically have his eyeballs sucked from their sockets, he set it down.

"I think I'll keep my gun," he said.

"Please," Rashok snorted, "Do you really think you will be able to fend off a million Shadows? Even the Vorlon cannot fight that many. Give me the gun."

Sheridan hesitantly pulled out his gun and handed it to the man. He was right. There would have been no way for him to fight off that many. Rashok motioned with his hand and the two guests followed him down a short hallway, passing by a couple doors. Rashok then stopped by one door and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice from inside called and the door opened, and they stepped inside. The door closed and they were looking at an elderly man. He spotted Kosh and his eyes grew wide.

"What is a Vorlon doing here, Rashok?" the man demanded.

"A thousand apologies," the Minbari bowed his head, "But, he..."

"Kept knocking him out," Sheridan volunteered.

The man scowled at Kosh. "Fine," he said, "Well, my name is Justin. And you would be Captain John J. Sheridan."

"I am," he said, sitting down on a chair that the older man pointed to, "Who are you?"

"Does it really matter?" the old man asked, his full mustache doing nothing to hide his disdain for the question.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"Who decides how long the workday is?" he said, his eyes flashing, "Who decides school times? Who decides curfew is going to be ten one night and then seven another night. I'm with those guys, only a different department. But I do know of someone who you'll be more than happy to meet I think."

"There's really no one here I really want to see," he responded in a less then short reply.

"Oh," Justin smiled, "I think you'll want to see these two." Turning back towards a door in the back, he called out, "It's alright. He's ready to see you now."

Out from behind the door stepped out the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And at once his emotions were thrown in turmoil. No...it couldn't be. She was dead! He had seen her dead body!

"Anna?" he breathed.

"Hello John," she smiled, and turning a small baby in her arms to face him said, "I'd like you to meet our son, David."

* * *

Delenn awoke in the medlab bed, feeling as if she had been sleeping a long time. While she was extremely tired, she felt oddly refreshed. Much like how air is after a good rainstorm, the nice and crisp smell to the air. She looked around, hoping to see a friendly face.

"Doctor Franklin," she smiled at the dark-skinned man who was sitting against the wall, his head against the wall, his eyes closed.

He started and opening his eyes spotted Delenn and slowly standing up walked over. He began to scan her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine Doctor," she said, trying to raise her hand up to touch him, "Have I been away long?"

Franklin smiled and grabbed her hand. "Roughly a month or so," he said, "Not too long a time."

She closed her eyes and nodded. Feeling relieved at having something real she tried to rise. But, she realized that her body just wasn't ready to move yet and gave up. She then looked around and noticed a missing person.

"Where is John?" she asked.

"Lennier has a message to give you," Franklin said slowly and backed away.

Lennier slowly stood up from the corner and approached. He stopped and holding his hands and fingers triangle and handing a small data crystal to her. She looked at it curiously as an oddity. Lennier grabbed her and helping her to her feet, lead her to the viewscreen. She slide the data crystal into the slot and on screen came Sheridan's face.

"_Hey Delenn_," he said, "_If you are seeing this you are well. And that's good. But, by the time you see this, I will be at Za'Ha'Dum_."

* * *

Sheridan sat looking at the group gathered before him. How...that was the baby he and Delenn was to have. He saw that more clearly than anything he had ever seen. And yet, here was the woman he had married. This couldn't be.

"How...how are you alive?" Sheridan asked, staring at the woman before him. "And, we weren't able to have a child. Why..."

"Do you really think you were the only one who made a pact with the Shadows?" she asked with a smile, "They killed me, yes. Only to bring me back alive. And they made it so I could become pregnant with our child."

"That's one of the things about the Shadows," Justin said, "They are willing to help us if we need it. Now, take your Delenn for example. She gets poisoned by us and yet, the Vorlons didn't do anything. Did they?"

"No," Sheridan admitted, "They didn't. I even asked for their help."

"Have the Vorlons helped at all with your war against us?" Justin asked.

"Yes," he nodded.

"And how is that?"

"They taught me the difference between Truth, Beauty and Love," Sheridan remarked, "And how to fight legends."

Justin laughed. "I'm sorry, but teaching you and getting actively involved are two different things," he said, "Listen, the Shadows believe that chaos is what makes the galaxy stronger. The process of evolution is the process by which the weak are made weaker and the stronger are made strong. We encourage opposition in all things. That's why the Drazi fight it out every five years for domination of the political system. We encourage you to go up to the bully and punch him in the nose."

"But it's better to have the whole playground behind you when you face the bully," Sheridan pointed out.

"That's what the Vorlons would like you to believe," Justin rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry, but I don't know Kosh there. He might be a nice guy and have your interests at heart. I'm not saying he doesn't. But the Vorlons do not accept anyone not towing the line. And if you do, they beat you down. Ah, I see you know what I speak of. We hear a ton about that."

"What has happened to a society when it forced to play by the rules?" Anna asked, holding baby David to her, "Deaths. Inquisitions. Secret police. Lynchings. Public hangings. Suppression of speech. The list goes on and on."

"And so you go around and kick down the anthill every thousand years to shake up things right?" Sheridan nearly rolled his eyes.

"But the anthill is rebuilt ten times stronger," Justin pointed out, "Errors are corrected. Strict obedience does not allow for mistakes, which leads to wisdom."

"And was it wisdom to take everything that made Anna special away?" he suddenly asked, and the group paused, unsure of what to say next.

"What do you mean?" Anna asked.

"They've taken your soul from you," he said, leaning forward and staring into her eyes, "There is not a shred of warmth there. Nothing that was you. My Anna, she's not there anymore. Is she?"

Justin frowned, "It was regrettable, to be sure."

"No," Sheridan said, "It was dangerous. And I will not listen to you. I will destroy you all."

"That's the problem isn't it?" Rashok demanded, "Every time the Shadows try to do good, one like you rises to rally the troops. And they are rallying to you. You are a nexus, you go one way the whole universe wants to follow you. But not this time. You will obey us."

And his hand went to his sword as the door opened behind them Shadows creeping in.

* * *

_"Believe me, I wanted a life for us Delenn. I wanted the child we saw. But, what is our happiness compared to the lives of millions. Billions even? There is an old saying. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'."_

"We got incoming signals," Naomi called from her station.

"How many?" Takashima asked.

"Thirty ships," she said, gulping, "All Shadow."

Takashima felt a cold dread filling her heart. They weren't coming for peace, that was for sure. "Get Commander Corwin up here!" she ordered, "Activate the defense grid. Sound battle stations. Tell the fleet to form Defensive Pattern Zeta in pre-designated positions."

* * *

_"But, I will not allow the Shadows to win. The Vorlons want to punish me. That's why I allowed the Shadow agent to heal you. They wouldn't help, despite our roles in their war. But, I go to bring the light of destruction to the dark places of the Shadows."_

Sheridan staggered forth, running as fast as he could down the hallway, Kosh following behind. They could hear them rushing after them after they had fought their way through. Sheridan's leg had a great gash through the calf and he briefly noticed the long gashes and tears in the robes of Kosh's encounter-suit.

-Now!-

They both turned, Sheridan firing from his spare PPG and Kosh firing from his eyestalk. Two of their pursuers fell, but Rashok dodged them and went straight for Kosh, both swords being held high. Kosh shot him and Rashok fell, a gaping hole in his chest.

* * *

_"There is so much I wish we could have done Delenn. I really wanted our family. I wanted the life we could have had. However, Fate is not the kindest of mistresses and has something different in mind for us."_

The _Bel'reen_ erupted, the lasers slicing through it, all hands on board perishing. Two of the Heavy Narn cruisers came next, the crews barely registering they were being attacked before they vanished in a fiery cloud of death. The rest of the ships fired furiously, a Shadow ship being knocked aside. But, they were simply overwhelmed, and soon they were running, fighting every step of the way. _Zha'Valen'Venni_ fought back, but soon the lasers were beginning to slice into the station, killing dozens of Anla'Shok, Tak'Cha and Human security with every blast.

Just when all seemed to be going bad, jump points began forming, and out slid the remnant of Lord-General Marrago's Fleet. And on the other side, Kulomani had arrived. And from another part of space, out slid the Vorlon fleet. And boxing in the Shadows from three sides, they swooped in.

* * *

_"I love you, Delenn. There are no goodbyes. There are only good memories."_

Kosh was being overrun by Shadows and Drakh and So'of'da warriors. His encounter-suit was cracking and there was a scream. Sheridan tried to help Kosh but he heard Kosh scream. -Run!- He turned to run and the encounter-suit exploded, the Vorlon released. It seemed to Sheridan that Kosh was drawing a Sword of Light and smiting down Shadows as they attacked. But, before long even in his non-corporeal form he erupted, collapsing the tunnel overhead and burying him and his enemies under heavy rubble.

A light exploded in his mind and he fell to the ground. He quickly recovered and standing up he fled, tears streaming down his face. Kosh was dead. The Vorlon, whom he thought to be invincible was dead. But he was no better off. His arm was broken when a dying Rashok in his last moments had jumped up and attacked him, nearly cutting his arm off with his sword. He was blind in one eye from blood that flowed over it from a cut above it. Several ribs were broken and so were several of his toes and fingers.

But, he saw an opening in the passageway and ran to it. Only to find it was a ledge, with a wall. He turned frantically to run, and saw Anna approaching him. Her and two Shadows. Anna was holding his child in her arms.

"Come on John," she smiled sweetly, "There is nowhere to run. You can't hide. You can only submit. We can be together again. Be a family. Like we always were to be. You have no choice."

"I do have a choice," he said, walking towards her, "And it's this."

"What?" she asked, trying to seduce him.

"My child will not grow up under the Shadows," he said, hitting her hand. As she stumbled back he grabbed his child from her arms and holding her in one arm pulled out the nuclear device. He popped the top and pushed the button. And with a massive flash of light and heat he was somehow thrown back over the edge, but he could no longer see and indeed, he was already dead. And all of Za'Ha'Dum shook.

* * *

And thus the Human year 2260 ended. Sheridan and Kosh were overpowered at Za'Ha'Dum. As the nuclear explosion shook the foundations of the planet, the might Shadow fleet that was engaging the Vorlons and younger races not only at the Kah'Markab system but elsewhere recieved the order to return to Za'Ha'Dum. The Younger Races were no so badly bruised that their victory could not be followed up.

The resistance on Centauri Prime continued, every day brining more death and destruction. Vir and his wife had their firstborn son during the same time Sheridan exploded the nuclear device. And G'Kar met the Techno-Mage Galen again as Vir met with Gideon. And Londo Mollari and Malachi prepared their next stage of the resistance.

On Epsilon 2, Lyta Alexander Gordon and Zack Allen began their lives as newly-weds, and Lyta began to discover she was getting more and more powerful. And in her chamber, Talia Winters Bester awoke, activated by the Shadows.


	52. Behind the Scenes

**Behind the Scenes**

_Point of No Return_ was definitely a monster. As you may all recall, back in the BTS section of _In the Beginning_ I said quote: "The booklet also helped inspire the plotline of the story. Each page has a strip on it. And this strip shows clips of the episodes on each disc...These clips each are made into a chapter." I also said: "I also used clips on the discs to help mold the story."

Now, Season 3 of Babylon 5 is the only season where the discs and booklet have completely different clips. And so, I was suddenly forced into a major undertaking. There was _fifty_ clips. And those fifty clips each would be turned into a chapter. Some of the clips are the same, but I decided to stay true to form. And man, am I glad I did.

Now, I wanted Sebastian and King Arthur to be in the story. Sebastian was a critical point in the molding of the "Chosen Ones" from the original series. Not only did it help create them into what the Vorlons needed, but also gave a hint at the cruelty of what he was capable of. And you will realize that most of the dialogue is very much the same as "Here Comes the Inquisitor". It's powerful stuff. And, well, why could Sebastian be really Jack the Ripper, but David McIntosh couldn't be King Arthur? So, I cheated in a sense by making him Nakenn, one of Valen's right hand men that was introduced in the comic book trilogy "In Valen's Name." And he was the first Minbari after Valen who had his soul transferred to a human host.

Now, the idea of the Crystal Queen and the Changing Emperor came directly from "Into the Fire". When Delenn and Sheridan are talking to the two races during the Battle of Coriana VI, Sheridan is faced with a woman, who looked like a female Centauri seer and Delenn was faced with either one or many creatures that looked like people she knew. So, who were these people? Why not they be the rulers of the Vorlons and Shadows? And why not have it be simply one person Delenn saw, the Emperor of the Shadows who Goes by Many Names.

Lyta and Talia. The super telepaths. The question was posed when I had Marcus sent off with Kosh by a reader that what was going to happen to Lyta? If Marcus was going to become the super doomsday weapons of the Vorlons, what was Lyta supposed to be? I replied that Marcus was not going to become the telepath, and I still had plans for Lyta. However, Lyta's seduction by the Shadows to Zack Allen made taking her from his side nigh impossible.

However, making Ari Ben Zayne a Vorlon Agent (a stroke of genius on my part I think), allowed me to kill not one, not two, but _four_ birds at one time. I always wanted to get rid of Ben Hitler. Even in my story he's a crazy coot. Secondly, I wanted Laurel Takashima, who goes by Laura in my story, to get onto _Zha'Valen'Venni_, which was first introduced in _In the Beginning_, even if I didn't name it in the story. Third, I wanted Lyta to become the super telepath. I'm sure that a Vorlon entering your body would automatically began a physical and psychological change. Lastly, it allowed me to play with an idea I've had for roughly a year now. The last Emperor of the Byzantine Empire died during the last defense of his city, Constantinople. However, his body was never recovered, and he took on an Arthurian quality. There is actually a legend that he will return to take his place when people need him the most. So, I had always thought of doing a story where he was transported to a magical land. So, why not have the Vorlons grab him at the last second?

Talia's transformation, especially the scene with her naked in the test chamber actually comes from a picture I saw online. It had Lyta in the position instead of Talia and (while I say she looks mighty fine naked) instead of Zener it was two Shadows. But, the artist wrote how he thought the Shadows would have taken their revenge, and it was by grabbing the Vorlon super weapon and turning her into their own doomsday device. I couldn't do it with Lyta, because she had a Vorlon, but Talia was another super telepath and I was like, "Yes!"

I always liked the Markabs, and I had actually planned on doing their death during _Coming of Shadows._ But, I think it works better in this book, because it allowed me to also move _Zha'Valen'Venni_ there. Playing off the "real world" like of Stephan Franklin for the Markab and Sheridan's wanting to stop the grave-robbers. Also allowed for one of my favorite scenes from the story. The Oracle scene. I really loved that scene, partially because for all intents and purposes, it was about as original as I could get with the story.

Okay, I'm not a romantic. However, I wanted Lyta and Zack to get together. So, why not force her into the relationship. I don't think that even on her own she would have eventually turned to Zack after Byron's "death". So, why not make the Shadows influence her to his side? This also allowed for Zack's revenge against the Minbari.

I wanted to bring in a new supporting character for the series. One in Remnant Force. And I settled upon Jake Thompson, who in the battle between the White Star Fleet and the Advanced Omega Destroyers-X in Season 4 introduced himself as "Captain J. Thompson." And well, there was Samuel Thompson from _Crusade_ as well. So, bringing the two together as a father-son duo, it's very fun. It also allowed for the destruction of Minbar.

Marrain and Neroon's rebellion was in many ways to be what the Centauri rebellion could never be. A full blown open engagement. And Vir put into practice on Centauri Prime what he's learned in the Conspiracy of Light.

I wanted Centauri Prime to fall. It will allow me to do some stuff in the next book I couldn't have done otherwise had I not done so. It also saw the rise of the Selvan, which I think are an awesome race, and completely a new race. I originally had it planned where they arrived at Narn, battled their way past the defenses and then suddenly the Selvan turn on them with lasers that sun around the middle of their ships and would pretty much slice and dice the Centauri fleet. But, I really loved my showdown between Lord-General Marrago and G'Kar. I've been talking about how Marrago's this awesome general, but we've never seen his genius. I wanted to give it you guys. Also, the whole Dormo verses the Shadows had to be done. It really did. The Gorash battle between the G'Sten's Narns and the Shadows was powerful and awesome and I wanted something similar. As for the giant hand...that's going to be revealed later on.

Delenn's getting sick being the catalyst for Sheridan going to Za'Ha'Dum was actually inspired by the third massive volume of the A Dark, Distorted Mirror B5 alternative story. In that, John Sheridan was paralyzed after Epsilon 3 exploded when the Shadows attacked. Delenn is given an option by the Vorlons to heal him. The price was her to go to Za'Ha'Dum. I decided to reverse it, where Delenn was going to die, Sheridan asks the Vorlons for help but denied and the Shadows offer it as long as he agrees to come with them.

Now, I was saddened when Kosh died. Because he's the biggest mother out there and I'm sure he could have rocked Za'Ha'Dum if he had gone there with Sheridan as he promised. So, I deliberately made it so that Kosh went with Sheridan to Za'Ha'Dum.

As for Anna coming back, I always wanted her to come back. I killed her in _COS_ so that way when Sheridan did go to Za'Ha'Dum, he was faced with his wife who was living and also find out the son that he saw in his vision was not actually his and Delenn's but his and Anna's.

Now, for some predications and teasers for you all.

The Selvan are not gone for good. They will be back. I do plan on Talia being unleashed in the next book, and well get to see Lyta as well be unleashed. The Minbar-Human Wars are basically done, but we haven't seen the last of Marrain and Neroon. Vir is going to do the unthinkable during the next book.

Now, I haven't decided whether I'm bring Sheridan back, but either way, we are finally going to be getting to see Corwin's leadership skills, which I've hinted at from time to time. Julia Musante and David Corwin...well, we shall have to see where that goes. The giant hand that destroyed the Centauri Fleet. That's not going to be explained in the next book. Probably it'll either be book 6 or 7. But, don't worry, the Giant Hand will not be stopped.

Now, this book was almost two whole months writing, a new chapter every day. It was a beast, and I am officially worn out. I need to take a break from the _Babylon 5 Alternate Universe_. However, that doesn't mean I'm not coming back to it. Because I am. But the next two weeks I will be gathering my strength for the plunge again.

But, I will say this, with the end of this book, we have officially reached 60% of the story. And I do plan on probably ending it at book 7. So, we are going to be coming to the starting up of wrapping up storylines by the end of book 5 _No Surrender, No Retreat_.


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